Rebirth
by MoraleDK
Summary: After turning up bloodied bruised in a abandoned building, Harleen is trying to find out how she got there. After tracing back ties to Bruce Wayne they both conclude that she has memory loss. She doesn't remember anything about her life with the Joker or as Harley Quinn. In fact, the last thing she recalls is starting her job at Arkham. Rated M for language and sexual situations.
1. Chapter 1: Water Birth

Ch. 1: Water Birth

Rebirth

* * *

Blinding light; a pure white, clean ray flooding within the broken windows and between the rotting wood planks. A broken body lurches off the ground inhaling heaps of oxygen, kick starting raw adrenaline that helps urge the limbs to animate.

The woman gazed around the room taking ragged breaths, wide eyes darted around the room on high alert. Dust, weather worn walls, the distant sound of dripping water, the smell of burnt rubber and dirt, and the area was desolate and hazard ridden. Ignorant of her surroundings, she grew scared, her bones and her muscles ached. She tilted her head upwards and squinted through sunlight to see a broken skylight.

Given the broken glass around her, and embedded in her forearms, she synthesized that she fell through it. How or why was beyond her. She tried to stand but experienced a sharp pain in her knee, a large shard of glass jutting out of her flesh, dry blood clotting on her leg.

She let out a helpless whine, confusion, pain, frustration all creating an emotionally destructive whirlwind that threatened to cripple her. She knew that the wound wasn't fatal but it would be best to remove the glass later, she didn't want to risk bleeding out. Shocks of blonde strands congealed with dirt and blood fell in her eyes and she began a sideways crawl towards a support beam and stood on her good leg.

Dressed in a thin black dress she wondered what the hell she was doing before the accident. She couldn't exactly recollect her own name, and had no idea where she was or how she'd gotten there. Judging by the blood on her leg and her attire, she'd been out for an entire day or more, and was more than likely making her way to an event before the accident.

She looked around again, her vision adjusting to the light, and spotted a purse hanging by a strap from a loose metal rod on the wall. The dangling accessory was open and facing the ground where underneath its contents spilled out onto the dirt and glass filled floor.

The purse has to have a wallet or something in it that would yield some answers to an ever growing list of questions, but her leg had to be solved first. A voice in the back of her head urged her to make a splint, but with what? Plenty of planks and beams laying around, one of those and some binding should suffice. There was a long enough piece of wood just out of her grasp and a few scattered pieces of twine in the corner.

With some careful crawling and scooting she managed to acquire the needed materials. She had to straighten out of her, which wasn't exactly a pleasant task but she needed to move fast. She hissed, grunted and groaned as she flexed out the wounded limb, sliding the wood underneath it.

Tears started to form as she began to wrap the twine around her leg and the board to secure her leg into the makeshift splint. The woman sat there for a second to catch her breath before crawling back to the support beam and standing again, her aggravated leg now more sore.

At a steady hobble she made her way to the purse contents, footing them around to get a better view. No wallet, a money clip, some make-up, no I.D or driver's license, not much of anything that she could work with except for a black flip phone that appeared as if it were still functional.

Moving it near her with her foot she slowly sat on the ground and went through the device. It was a disposable phone, she could tell that much by looking at it. Flipping it up the screen lit up and tiny bars in the upper corner of the screen indicated that she had service. She went to dial 911 but stopped, she didn't know how all of this happened, and although she hurt badly she had suspicions.

No one has found her yet and it's been a couple of days, as a missing person there'd be a search, well, only if she had daily obligations in which an absence would be a suspicion.

Along with the general items in the purse a handgun among with them. No identification, a gun, no help, this entire situation wasn't sound. The phone had two dialed numbers, but only one had corresponding text messages. She read over them seeing the name Bruce Wayne, her head began to hurt. They were supposed to meet at his house around the approximate time she experienced the accident.

She went through more of the things and obtained a crumpled piece of legal paper with an address on it, she knew where this was. Peering outside it was a couple blocks away from there, but she was in no shape to walk. Sighing she dialed the number and waited.

"Hello?" The voice of an older man answered.

"H-hello I'm looking for a Bruce...Wayne" she responded as if it were a question

"Just a second, may I ask whose calling" the accent was clearer as he spoke

"Uh" she thought back to the text "Harleen?"

There was a pause "Just a moment" after that silence

Did he hang up? Harleen's heart began to race with panic until she heard a click. "Harley where are you?" a gruff voice demanded.

She let out a relieved sigh into the phone "I'm in an abandoned building on...Yonkers and 4th...I'm hurt bad and-"before she could elaborate she was interrupted.

"I'm on my way" a click then silence.

Harleen, Harley, a nickname, she began to murmur to herself "Harleen, Harleen...ah...shit what's my...uh Quincy...Quentin..."she sat there and began to think. Looking down at her hands she frowned, her nails were painted red and she had a variety of scars on her arms, legs and god know where else, but these looked old. Letting out a frustrated groan she brought her body to the ground, closing her eyes and calming herself. She let sleep take her, and hoped for the best.

ooooo

Her body still felt sore, but she was no longer on the floor, the surface under her was soft and very warm. As she began to stir voices could be heard through the wall, they sounded argumentative but at this point in time that was the least of her concern. She was still covered in dirt and her leg still injured but she was out of the building, with help, she hoped.

She tried to go back to sleep because her head began to hurt, but loud footsteps moved out of the room and into the floor with a loud thump.

"How'd you sleep" a deep, even voice asked in the darkness of the room.

She never really looked at her new surroundings. She sat up and glanced around the room warily, the man took a step towards her. The dark room looked like a side room to an office, modest furnishings and lonely house plant. The man who entered the room was tall and well-built, dark hair, light eyes, and dressed in all black. Attractive, she thought cocking an eyebrow, and by the looks of this place he was also loaded. The walls in this little side room were painted a burgundy red, the plant was real and the air smelled clean. If this room looked nice, the rest of the place must look more sophisticated. What was his association with her?

"I've probably had better….and uh...if you don't mind, can you fill me in on a couple things" she paused "And my knee-"

"It will all be taken care of….what do you remember?" he asked walking back into an office and returning with a few medical materials, and a small plastic tarp. Setting everything up accordingly he looked at Harley's leg "That looks rough" kneeling in front of her he got a better look. "I'll have to-"

"Do whatever, but I still have a lot of questions Mr.-"

"Bruce Wayne"

"That's not ringing any bells for me" she murmured.

"What do you mean?" he looked up at her

"I don't know a Bruce Wayne, I can barely remember my own name, and I have no Idea how I ended up in that building"

"Are you saying that you don't remember anything? Sense when? What's the last thing you remember?"

Harleen paused "...Starting a new job at the asylum...and-"

"Harleen…do you know what year it is?"

She looked at him, her mouth opened to say something but she stopped, for some reason she couldn't remember.

Bruce looked at Harley in a loss for words. She had amnesia and it was rooted deep. She gazed at him her blonde eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

What happened?

* * *

A/N: Chapters will be longer when the story continues IF the story continues, feel free to comment on any mistakes or inconsistencies...don't be too harsh about it please. I'm looking for feedback on the stories quality and if I should continue or not.

More to come soon

Maybe


	2. Chapter 2: Consultation

Ch. 2: Consultation

Rebirth

* * *

What happened?

It felt good to rinse the dirt out of her hair. Caked up patches of blood and dirt all dissolved from her long, blonde strands and swirled down the drain. Her leg was wrapped up, her knee heavily treated and patched. The water aggravated the wound to a certain degree, but she'd endure the pain to feel clean. Most of her time in the shower was spent leaning into the warm spray and observing her various bruises and healed cuts.

The majority were straight cuts, not jagged or tapering, but just simple, clean, and neat cuts. Harley never remembered sustaining any injury bigger than her recent accident, but then again her memory was still a bit foggy. Most of them she assumed to be from the glass in the fall, but others looked treated, and too neat to be accidents. Washing her face again, Harley let the thought pass for now. Her day had been pretty eventful, and there would be time to assess her inquiries at a later time.

Limping out of the glass shower, she grabbed the towel off the rack and began to dry off. She fluffed and patted at her hair then worked her way down, flinching as she went over raw injuries. These would also have to wait.

A folded T-Shirt lay on the toilet seat, slipping it on, the garment almost went past her knees. There was also a black robe laid out for her which she wore with much appreciation. Walking out of the bathroom she totted her tattered dress and went to find Bruce. The office was empty, and the rooms on that hall were either locked or just guest rooms. She decided to peer over the stair rail, and managed to spot Bruce with a teen boy who he appeared to be scolding.

"Hey" she called out tiredly.

Bruce turned his attention to Harley, who gave him a tired wave.

"We'll continue this later, go to your room" he spoke, his voice low and firm. The teen boy went upstairs, his face twisted into a betrayed frown.

Harley waited until after the door slam down the hall "I know it's late, but I'd probably sleep better with some answers" she paused and heard the muffled sound of loud rock music blaring from the teen's room. "And you probably could use some rest yourself...so I'd like to make this quick" she laughed.

Bruce nodded "Let's go to my study, right around the corner" walking up the stairs he gave once disapproving glance down the hall before continuing.

"As far as I can recall, I felt more accomplished getting to the vending machine before Dr. "Vacuum cleaner" Leland"

Bruce almost laughed "And the Joker?"

She shrugged "What about him? I was probably only being used as an example" the blonde crossed her legs and leaned back in the leather chair. "Give a bitch the murderous clown wacko and send her packing" she blew a raspberry. "So yeah, I stayed"

"Do you still retain any-"Bruce searched for the ideal word. "Loyalty to him?"

Harleen chuckled "Never knew I had any" she replied with a smirk. "Like I told you. I. DON'T. REMEMBER. SHIT" emphasizing her point by over articulating.

He didn't want to risk this entire ordeal being an elaborate ruse, but the woman before him seemed like a totally different person. "Is there anything you remember about The Joker from your day's working at Arkham?"

She ran her fingers through her drying hair "I had maybe-" she looked up and thought. "-2 sessions with him...he was just off, typical I guess, but it annoyed me. His entire personality was just warped and fixing it, Jesus don't get me started"

"Did you find any part of him, admirable?"

Harleen took a good hard look at Bruce, "I got into my profession to help those who were sick. My only goal for The Joker-"she leaned forward. "-Was to bring him out of insanity"

Bruce frowned "That doesn't-"

"And into an electric chair"

His jaw almost dropped "So you didn't care for him"

"Some people can be helped in time, others can't. To me, if you allow your insanity to make you commit the murder of innocent people, men, women-"she bit the inside of her cheek. "-Children, then there's no help for you...not from me" she paused. "I just wanted to know why, I wanted him to see what he did" her fingers began to strum on the arm rest. "But everything was a joke to him...maybe if I understood why I could sympathize with him. In school it seemed easy, just treat these people like an assignment, but...I just get so mad thinking about him, what's he's done you know" letting out a sigh the woman let her hand go flat on the rest. "So, can I get some information here, I would like to breathe easy tonight"

He pursed his lip, heavily reluctant, he began to elaborate "For about 3 years you affiliated with The Joker as a type of...Hench woman. You've helped him hurt others...but your life with him...I do not know"

Harley paused for a long while. The silence in the room was uncomfortable. "Is this a joke Mr. Wayne?"

"This is the truth Harleen and I'm not sure how to make it more credible" he looked around, grabbed a newspaper and handed it to her. The headline read "THE JOKER AND HIS LUNATIC LOVER HARLEY QUINN AT IT AGAIN!"

Harleen took the paper and scanned over the photo. The face paint she wore was haunting, her hair up in pigtails and she gripped onto the arm of The Joker. Her trembling hands sat the paper down, "It's a coincidence" she swallowed.

"Harleen" he responded firmly. "I need you to try and accept this, not to hurt you, but so that you can steer into a normal life. This is a chance for a new start. Usually I'm skeptical about rehabilitation, but your condition-" he stood. "-Is a blessing...I suggest you get some rest. We'll talk more in the morning" he held out his hand.

Harleen grasped his hand and pulled herself up. As Bruce assisted her down the hall, her body felt numb. Cheated would describe how she felt. She was a criminal, the right hand of some anarchist who fancied himself funny for the sick things he's done to others. Harleen promised her mother that she'd make something of herself. It was so hard to fit the mold of a professional. It was almost as if she tried to cram herself into a shoe two sizes small and walk without a hint of discomfort. The classes, the studying, the volunteer work, all of the personal sacrifice just wiped away. She was tricked, or threatened, that's the only reason she could think of as to why she'd associate with him.

As she walked, the hall grew more narrow, and cold, just like the halls of the asylum. Her host no longer there, she could hear the screaming and the moaning of the patients in their cells. A large carnival sign with flashing lights and bright yellows letters read "WELCOME BACK". The setting around her took on the look of a fair, roller-coaster tracks weaved into the walls, and the sound of screams grew louder. She was now dressed in her work clothes from Arkham her hair pinned up in a neat, conservative bun.

Her breathing stopped and she began to feel light headed as she approached a large cell at the end of the hall. All sounds muted save for the sound of her high heels clicking against the grimy, moss covered tiles.

The low hum of a chuckle started to ease into the air, it reached her ear like the buzzing of an insect whisking past her.

"You think that you can escape me?" a dark tone hissed melodically then broke out in a shrill laughter.

The walls began to cave in and the ceiling crumbled.

White hands abruptly wrapped around the bars and the clown prince thrust himself forward, now face to face with Harleen, the bars separating them.

"YOU CAN, NEVER ESCAPE ME!"

She screamed and tears began to pour down her face in agony. So frustrated, she almost screamed herself almost raw. "MY ENTIRE LIFE!" she wheezed and held herself defensively. Bruce had to hold her up to keep her from collapsing. "MY ENTIRE LIFE IS GONE. HE TOOK IT FROM ME!" letting out a roar of frustration she punched a wall, leaving a decent sized hole in it.

Bruce wasn't sure how to handle her. The vigilante's resume didn't include comforting the mentally disturbed. He'd make sure to become disconnected from the emotions of others to gain a sense of clarity, to distinguish the genuine from the liars. When Harleen fell into him, sobbing into his chest, his own throat tightened.

My entire life is gone.

The phrase rang in his head like the constant, measured tick of a metronome. Although her person rested on his, she was in pieces, shattered like glass. Her body quaked as she continued to sob, he'd managed to get her to the room prepared for her but she wouldn't stop crying.

Part of him wanted to pull her off, this was awkward. His goal was to keep the Joker one hand short, not become a lost woman's comfort. The amount of trust he placed in the opposite gender was very limited; they'd either exploit him for his status, or were too needy and hindered his mobility.

Being the man he was, he wouldn't let this progress into anything other than a containment effort, snub out the clowns influence. Not that the freak cared for Harleen, or rather Harley; he wouldn't go off looking for her. Bruce just hoped she'd provide him with some crucial information, and that she'd go on to live a normal life.

He knew it wasn't wise to stay there for much longer, but he continued to hold her. The feeling was nice, to share an intimate moment without any hidden motive behind it. They shared a common betrayal, losing people, losing time. They were robbed, of opportunities and happiness, the ability to have a normal life, to trust. They could never piece themselves back together, doomed to cradle their fragments in hopes of becoming whole again.

A cautious hand rubbed her back; Harleen emptied her pain and anguish out through tears and wails. He would let her cling to him for a while longer.

ooooo

For most women in popular media, waking up was a chance to reanimate from a peaceful slumber. Like a phoenix from the ashes, the beautiful female on screen stretches, her feathered hair made to look elegantly messy and angelic.

In real life, this trope was far less realistic than the idea of Bigfoot roaming your local grocery store. Perhaps the mornings of Bigfoot were more glamorous, more hair, and less concern.

Harleen sure felt like a Bigfoot, lumbering groggily out of bed, golden angelic locks, wrapped around her neck and some sticking to the side of her face, drool the adhesive. Whatever was hanging loose stuck out in different direction courtesy of static. If her keratinized noose didn't end her, her leg would. When she moved, the pain began to surge resulting in a dull ache, and a lovely raw throbbing. It's not as pleasurable as it sounds.

A gentle knock came at the door. "Are you decent Miss Quinzel? Your breakfast is ready and I have something for your leg" Alfred spoke at the door.

"Uh yeah, come in" she straightened up to stand but saw the butler walked in with a tray of food. "Oh, I could've gotten up" she murmured, her hair still a disaster.

"With the condition of your leg I'm surprised that you sound so unaffected" he smiled setting the tray down on the nightstand. "Here are some painkillers to help with any discomfort" the older man handed her the bottle.

"Thank you" she took the bottle and shook a couple of the white bars in her hand. "Is Bruce up? I'd like to speak with him" she inquired.

The butler shook his head "Master Bruce is still in the throes of fighting consciousness. He'll be up and moving no later than noon" he replied. "I suggest that after you eat, to get more rest. I'll see it that you and Master Bruce continue where you left of yesterday" crossing the room he checked the closets and dresser. "I'll return to bring you some fresh clothes. After you get dressed your leg will be redressed" Alfred straightened up and left the room.

Harleen nodded and looked down at her arm, more scars.

ooooo

Contradictory to popular belief, the Dark Knight did not live for early mornings. He lived for days where he was able to sleep until noon, or even 2pm. Oh 2pm. His body was always sore, and he never felt fully rested, almost like he never slept. However, this morning he felt refreshed. It was going on 1pm, but his night cradling Harley made him feel at ease. He shook of the warm feeling and came to his senses, he'd feel normal after a cold shower.

With a towel draped around his shoulders he made his way towards the kitchen. The aroma of chicken and garlic wafted in the air, it was welcoming but didn't seem like an "Alfred" meal.

Harleen stood pouring sauce with chicken over cheesy noodles. Looking up with her hair up in a messy bun she smiled, "Hey there, I hope I'm not overstepping" she said.

Bruce paused, toweling his hair absently as he looked at the setting before him. She was very radiant, no make-up, ruffled hair, a broken leg, and she looked beautiful. He wasn't used to women not trying to impress him, he preferred this look.

"Uh...n-no, but your leg-"he stuttered.

"This? Stings like hell when I move, but fine" she grabbed a flat wooden spoon and began to smooth out the sauce. "I'm not sure about you, but I don't like sitting around feeling sorry for myself, not hungry anyway" she cocked an eyebrow and leaned over the counter. "And if you don't mind, I'd like to talk"

He nodded and took a seat, "Still wanting answers?"

"No, I just like smashing through skylights and fucking up my leg, keeps me skinny" she paused "I'm sorry" she held her hands up, "Just enlighten me"

"I told you what I know" he replied. He didn't want to reveal too much, she didn't know of his other persona. "You were The Joker's sidekick, his romantic partner, and his punching bag at times" he waited "That's what I've herd" he shrugged.

"I understand that, I was a criminal, but it doesn't seem like any of this happened" she clenched her fist. "I would not just forget 3 years of my life, I must've been tricked or kidnapped I-"

"It was voluntary" he began to think "From what I saw in the news, you were infatuated with him-"

"Stockholm syndrome? What did he use to make me stay he had to have done something, I just wouldn't go with him. I'm not fucking stupid!" she spat. Harley rubbed her forehead "Sorry again, I can't wrap my head around this, I went to school, I-I had a plan and he just-"she bit her lip to silent an onslaught of bad language.

Bruce tapped his foot "Harleen, I only know what everyone else does, you were the Jokers pawn, an accepting one, how that came to be lies within you"

She hung her head and understood, she'd have to try to remember, or simply find someone with answers.

"Well then" she huffed "Would you like some? I don't mind eating this entire pan of pasta myself, but you look a little hungry"

Bruce eyed the pan quietly as a loud, drawn out stomach growl echoed through the kitchen. Harleen erupted with laughter as Bruce put a hand over his stomach a pinched the bridge of his nose.

The two sat at the table with two empty plates and half of the pasta gone. "You can stay here until you get back on your feet" Bruce spoke first.

She scoffed "Right. I don't have much of a choice do I?"

The frustration she felt was enough to make her hair fall out.

"I want to make something clear first...Mr. Wayne" Harleen sat straight. "You will be compensated. My leg should heal in a month or so, I'll be out of here" standing was still a hassle but manageable. "You're a gracious host, and hell you saved my life, but I don't feel comfortable like-"she searched for the word. "Living off of you" she paused and crossed her arms. She eyed the man before her, a shadow crept over the upper half of his face, his mouth a fixed line.

"How do you know me?" she smirked. "I was obviously a wanted criminal, legally insane, and somehow I ended up on my way to see you. Why?"

It was a matter of time "You met me on one of your outings...away from the Joker. I insisted on helping you" he explained. "Someone must've intercepted you"

"Hmm" she replied, she wanted to say more, to know more. The woman knew how humans worked mentally. The man before her wasn't being fully honest, she could tell by his speech patterns, and the vein pulsing in his forehead. "I think that's all I can take right now, maybe my memory will return" she shrugged. "I should be working at that huh" she laughed.

Bruce nodded "I understand your aggravation though" he held up a hand "But, don't worry too much about relocating. After all, you got into this mess on your way to meet me. It's the least I can do"

The blonde nodded in agreement. As much as it wounded her pride, accepting the wealthy man's help would get her closer to getting her memory back. Her host, as generous as he was, seemed to be withholding information. She needed connections to her past life, and the only place where she could fine them would be Arkham.

"How long will it take my leg to heal?"

* * *

A/N: Again, I vow to make these chapters longer. Whenever I draft them up on word they appear lengthy. This chapter is to set up events to come. I want to entertain as well as have fun with the readers.

Now that I've gained some footing on this story I can make the content more dynamic

Speaking of content, chapter 3 will be a little graphic, hence the M rating. There will be some good ol' Joker next chapter (hopefully I don't screw up his character)

The Harley that I envision while writing this is a bit sassy. I portray her according to her background as a doctor and as a woman who's lived in a crime ridden city.

Let me know if there are any inconsistencies or questions. Advice is accepted

I am also very appreciative for the supportive reviews and follows! Thank you very much! 3


	3. Chapter 3: Feet First

Ch. 3 Feet First

Rebirth

* * *

A month had passed.

"I can't believe it" Joann Leland gaped at the woman in the doorway.

"I hope to make you a believer" Harley tilted her head to the side and tapped her foot nervously. "Can we talk?" Her thick blonde hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail and she was dressed in grey sweatpants with a white long-sleeved over shirt. She dressed for comfort, and didn't want to attract attention by being recognized. She felt paranoid while walking the streets, as if at any moment someone would point her out. Through the last couple weeks the former criminal had been cooped up at Wayne manor, plotting and scheming, she couldn't afford any shortcomings.

Leland looked back into her apartment cautiously then turned back to Harleen. "Why should I trust you? I could just turn you in" the older woman spoke bitterly, placing her hands on her hips and eyed Harleen skeptically.

"You shouldn't it's normal, if not human to be worn down by a patient's denial regarding their condition, like you're working in circles or backwards" Harleen spoke, repeating one of Joan"s old teachings.

Leland mentally debated on whether to trust Harleen or give herself enough time to notify the police. You could see the confliction on her face as her brows drew close together and her lips pulled downward into a frown.

"Come in" she hesitated stepping aside for Harleen to enter "but stay in the living room" she whispered.

Harleen walked in and sat on a dark maroon loveseat, sighing as she sank into the cushion.

"I need answers Harleen"

"Don't we all" she murmured looking off into space. Harleen could feel Lelands urge to hit her for the comment. She cleared her throat "What I mean is, I was hoping you could answer some questions for me"

"Harleen..." Leland began.

"Hear me out, please" the young blond sat up and waited for Leland to stop pacing. "I need to know about my encounters with the Joker"

"I'm not sure I understand"

Harleen had to word this correctly "I took a blow to the head recently, the last thing I remember is clocking out at the asylum and you nagging at me to make sure I got rest" she looked up to see that Leland was listening. "Next thing I know, somebody I've never met says that they know me and says that I've been leading a life of crime for the past three years"

"...What did we argue about that day I 'nagged' you about getting rest" she needed to make sure that even if Harley was messing with her, that she was coherent enough to remember her past experiences.

Harleen responded promptly "You told me that I needed more sleep and to stop substituting candy bars for actual meals, and I tried to get you to understand the nutritional value of everything in a chocolate bar"

"While speaking a mouth full of snickers" Joan deadpanned

Harleen batted her eyelashes "There's nothing like 12 grams of smiles Joan"

The doctor had to laugh "Don't you mean 12 grams of fat, not to mention all of that sugar, you ate three of those things a day-"

"You are still no fun" Harleen interrupted with a tired giggle.

"And you're..." her face was scrunched up and ready to lecture, but softened slowly as she saw Harleen in front of her for the first time in three years. "...like you were" Joan let out a breath of relief and sat down, eyeing the woman before her with caution.

"So can you help me?"

Standing, she turned to Harley "Come with me"

"After that session you left. You'd come back as a patient a few times after that, I'd try to talk some sense into you but you'd escape" her tone was solemn with sadness as she spoke.

Harley looked down hunching over in the chair going through Leland's notes "Seems like some kind of personality disorder, something traumatic could only weaken one's mental state to result in well….this…."placing her palm under her chin in fatigue she huffed, blowing a lock of hair out of her face. "Or a bump on the head…"she looked up hoping for insight.

"That's what I surmised as well...but I never found the damaging experience" the older woman crossed her legs "And being three years with the Joker you've had many bumps to the head"

Harley rolled her eyes but nodded in agreement.

"The video recording from your sessions with the Joker were all taken the day you 'disappeared' but I can tell you what I know, just promise me one thing"

Harleen rose an eyebrow "Name it Leland"

The blonde made a face hearing the rattle of a pill bottle "These antipsychotics should help keep 'Harley Quinn' away during your pursuits, if you start to feel like you're losing touch, or you run out, come back here and I'll fix you up, understood" the doctor spoke sternly.

She took the pills and shook out two "Got a glass of water?"

ooooo

As many may know, sitting in front of a computer screen for hours isn't good for the eyes. For this stubborn detective, casual eye rubbing would have to ease the strain. Lately the Joker had been inactive, resulting in others oozing out of the woodworks to take advantage of the clown's lack of influence. He was planning something big, Bruce could feel it, but for now he'd have to settle for keeping tabs on the current lineup of criminals. The soft patter of tired footsteps sounded down the hall, Bruce cleared his screen of mug shots and corresponding surveillance notes. He turn to see Harleen walk right past the room he was in and straight towards the kitchen, he sighed and stood. It was going on three in the morning, he knew who was stalking the halls of his home but the motive was beyond him.

The dainty sound of a woman's footsteps is unmistakable to a man with keen senses. He could hear it when his evening partners would up and wander throughout the large mansion, seeking out a hidden source of secrets or instant riches. The ones who asked too many questions would often find themselves admiring pictures on the wall and photo albums, trying to pry out anything that would lead to a breakthrough. He learned to hide those things, the things that still held worth in his life. Those photos were memories, those of which that belonged to him, their purpose was to remind him that he was once loved with no strings attached. These photographs aren't meant to satisfy the curiosity for some pestering woman who would only see them as ammunition to prod him with.

He finally found the motivation to bring himself to his feet and track down his house guest. Not making a sound, Bruce watched Harleen as she went through the drawers and cabinets. It wasn't an area he'd find many women snooping around in, but in his field of expertise the unexpected wasn't as surprising as it was a learning opportunity. What he was viewing, wasn't an act of deception or womanly snooping, but, well he wasn't sure.

Harleen was opening a can of pineapple slices with a can opener, her eyes were tired and by the way she was going at that can she wasn't getting anywhere in her condition. Being a veteran of the sleep deprived stupor Bruce decided to lend a hand. He knocked on the door frame to get Harleen's attention.

Looking up, the blonde blinked drowsily her soft, powder blonde hair falling into her face and curling a bit at her shoulders. Dressed in the grey sweat pants from earlier but in a cooler black tank top, she frowned as she spotted Bruce in the doorway. "Oh, sorry did I wake you?" her voice sounded pitiful.

"No, I was up doing some work" he walked towards her, holding a hand out for the can

"Likewise" she responded surrendering the object

"Still trying to piece things together?" he also took the opener and began to use it with ease

Leaning against the counter Harleen ran her hands through her hair "More like trying to fit them into the wrong pieces for the pieces that aren't there, like doing one of those 600 piece puzzles…..in hell" she scoffed.

She continued to speak, telling him of his encounter with her past co-worker and the possible leads that would get her closer to the Joker. As rude and typical as it may sound, Bruce wasn't totally invested in the conversation. Without all of the face paint, and her blonde hair loose, she looked soft and angelic. He found himself looking at her little pink lips as they produced that raspy Brooklyn drawl. She would let out this soundless laugh after every sarcastic comment, the corner of her mouth pricked up and she'd make eye contact to read his reaction. She could get him to do anything she wanted, she could ask for money, possessions, secrets, and he'd eagerly dump them into her outstretched hands.

Her small, soft pleading hands. She wants something now, so he chooses to tune in.

"Hey, earth to Bruce" she now stood closer to him tilting her head to the side. "Are you even paying attention to me?"

He blinked, not giving any indication that he was caught off guard...well facially. Harleen ripped off a couple of paper towels and kneeled in front of the man. Looking down he watched her clean up the pineapple juice on the floor. Glancing back at his hand, the can had tilted while he retreated into his own mind. Between Harleen's talking and his mental absence, the detective somehow managed to get the can open.

"You know Bruce, you don't have to be polite to the point where it keeps you from telling me to put a sock in it" she snorts, balling up the soaked sheet and tossing it in the trash.

"No, no, forgive me, I've just been up too long"

She swiped the can away from the billionaire, slipping a ring of fruit in her mouth "Tell me about it" she spoke with her mouth full. "It's just" she chewed for a while" Assuming you were listening-" she swallowed, "-I think I know where I can find him, and once I do well I guess I can probably request some information" she paused to look at the man in front of her who began to strum his fingers on the counter, he was obviously skeptical.

"What" she murmured "Why are you making that face"

"You must have really, really, hit your head" he had to keep himself from rolling his eyes.

"I know it sounds-"

"Stupid"

"Man when you're sleepy you're an asshole"

"I'll make sure to take note"

Harleen paused murmuring a soft insult under her breath "Anyway...If I can find him-" she pointed at Bruce "-and I know that's a big if, I can hope to start getting my mind back in shape, maybe I can trigger something, I just want to know why" she sighed rubbing her forehead, "Boy are there a lot of those"

"Just let me know if you need any help" after the words escaped his mouth he mentally kicked himself. He was always taught to be a gentleman, to give help where it's needed. Giving to charities and granting money to fund beneficial research became routine. Along the way he learned when he was investing too much into a person, he'd only lend assistance if the situation was dire. People just proved to be a hindrance at times especially given his line of work. So he sat there, wondering what possessed him to word vomit.

"Thank you, but I think I'll be fine Mr. Wayne" she was confident

"Oh?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" She tilted her head to the side

"You're still recovering from your injuries, you have one lead, and once you get to the Joker you plan to talk with him?" Bruce watched Harleen's smile grow. "I don't find your lack of rational thought amusing"

The blonde hopped up on the counter to her best ability and sat "I don't want your help Bruce, and that's the end of that" she swung her good leg and hunched forward. "But to be fair, I'm far from irrational. All I want is some information, if I can't get it then oh well, I'll try something else"

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose "The Joker isn't just going to give you what you want, he's psychotic and will either try to kill you or attempt to ruin you mentally"

"Apparently he already did" Harleen snickered. "But I want to know why, that is all I want. Is it dangerous? Yes, it is, I knew that when I decided to become his doctor and I know that now, call me crazy" she stopped, Bruce was now pinching the bridge of his nose. "I walked right into that one...well call me whatever you'd like, nevertheless my options are severely limited. I'd like to avoid the Joker as much as possible, and judging by the resources Leland was generous enough to provide, I experienced some kind of emotional trauma, so much so that my psyche became fragile and he preyed upon it" shaking her head she took a deep breath to regain composure. "I know what I'm doing Bruce, and If I ever need help I will not hesitate to ask. But my mind will not rest until I gain some ground."

Bruce understood her struggle to a point where he wanted to take on the burden for her, but he stood firm and decided to let the wounded woman have her way.

She began to walk towards him "Besides, this isn't something for you to worry about" she reached out and gave him a playful pat on the cheek and continued to walk past him. "I should be out of your hair under a couple months so-" she shrugged one shoulder.

He made a face that urged her to continue, as he crossed his arms.

"Promise I'll elaborate later, but I better be going to bed, I have a big day planned ahead tomorrow, and thanks for the help with the-"she gestured to the can of pineapples and rounded the corner.

The man sighed and walked back to his office. Resuming where he left off, profiles and documents decorating the screen, the urge to pursue criminals was overcome with another need. He felt like he owed her, especially after what had happened and perhaps by helping her he'd no longer care for her presence. He pulled up her file and began to dig.

Unbeknownst to Bruce, or anyone for that matter, the petite gymnast did some digging of her own during her healing. It wasn't hard to google herself and the numerous crime reports that corresponded with the findings. She'd only been criminally active for three years and the amount of information available was staggering. The content didn't reveal anything that would lead to discovering the location of a hideout she and the Joker once shared or movement patterns. Relying on a combination of this, what she could scrounge up on her phone and information from Leland, finding the Joker wouldn't be as difficult as she thought.

He didn't exactly hide in plain sight, yet wouldn't care if someone found him. She'd have to call in a favor from Leland, but she would find him.

ooooo

If there was one thing the Joker loved, it was a surprise, something to challenge him and stimulate his chaotic swirling mind. He didn't recall most memories, except for those that truly excited him, and even then they were still jumbled. No, it took something totally out of the blue to capture his eye. Arkham asylum wasn't an institution to him, it was like a second home, full of scurrying rats to keep him entertained. He'd been there for nearly a month, without so much as an assault against anyone. Something in his gut anchored him in his cell; he would eventually break out with ease and continue his reign of terror but as for now he'd lie on a bed in a straightjacket, content with his surroundings. Recently, he'd thought about stirring up some trouble by attacking the attendant who hadn't notice the various tampering of his restraints. It used to be so interesting behind these bars, there was even a time where his focus left Batman and onto another subject.

She was a formidable opponent in the fight for his sanity, and was a hard nut to crack. She's annoying now, there was nothing drawing him to her brain anymore, she had such promise and now that he'd ruined that, he focused his attention on breaking her body instead.

Harley was one of his greatest projects that just wouldn't completely crumble, she just clung to him like he was a damn life raft keeping her from sinking. As if he would save her, he'd let her drown, failing limbs and all, then he'd have a good laugh a much needed laugh. Speaking of Harley, where was she? He'd expect her to bust him out by now. The dumb henchwoman found herself wanting to go out and explore the monotony that is normalcy. It was a normal occurrence, she'd grow tired of the abuse and run off only to run back into waiting fist and insults.

He heard the familiar sound of clicking heels come up the hallway. That sound brought him back, there was only one person walked that confidently in stilettos. He smiled to himself as he felt a body outside of his cage, even from this distance the scent of lavender reached his nose. He laid still and closed his eyes, his breathing evened out and he relaxed his limbs.

He cracked a quick smile.

And he waited.

Harley entered the room, she takes a glimpse at his chart on the clipboard hanging off a single horizontal bar. He took a sedative not too long ago, his attendant should be gone for a while but the Joker was out cold. She placed the clipboard back in its place and approached the joker, she clenched her fist realizing she had started to tremble.

When younger, her mother would take her to the fair with the emergency money she stashed away under the old floorboards in their apartment. The tired woman would make sure the booze hound was out of the house and across town somewhere with his friends. Harley looked forward to the fair all year, between all of the tension in her home and the crime emerging in her neighborhood, the fair made her feel like the child she deserved to be at that point in her life. She would ride three rides, play two games and eat dinner there, it was better than her birthday and Christmas combined. The setting sun would glitter among the yellow lights like stars that drifted down to the earth just to be among the bipedal creatures that roam the earth. Children screaming in glee and upbeat joyful music, and all to top it off, her hand in her mother's as she strung her along for this evening of absolute perfection.

One year, as she stood in line for a ride, bouncing lightly in her dirty pink glittery sneakers and grinning a snaggle toothed grin her sanctuary was destroyed. The circular movement of the machine malfunctioned with a harsh crunching noise, there were instant shrieks of terror as a cart dislodged from the main ride and flew off into the bare field. The contraption then toppled over, Harley stood still with eyes wide staring at the giant red beast as it neared her and the fleeing crowd. Two knobby knees locked the girl in place, she couldn't hear a thing and barely distinguished the running patrons. Just the faint wind licking at the sweat on her neck, and the blur of the lights against the crimson machine that broke down.

She would never admit it to anyone, but she didn't want to move, she wanted to be crushed by the big red wheel. She could be a child forever then, and never have to leave the place she loved the most. Yet at the same time, this impending doom was all of the pressure, and fighting, beatings, betrayals, abuse, and hopelessness all coming down on her in one blow. It would be fitting for the girl who lived among naughty animals, she closed her eyes and opened up her arms letting out a calm breath.

Her mother snatched her away, and the wheel caught on the fence, delaying its falling speed. She continued to stare as her mother held her tight and appeared to be calling her name frantically.

She was ten years old.

Now in this room, all she could do was stare at the joker, he looked so peaceful. In truth, he was this imposing figure, larger than life itself, he left destruction and death wherever he went. Yet now, he lie harmless and looking almost human, expression blank but light, body at ease. She knew the wicked potential that resided within him, ready to explode at the drop of a hat, he was poison, and pure disarray personified, the big red wheel ready to crash down on her at any moment.

She took another step forward, studying him, his makeup had been removed but his skin remained deathly pale. His lips were heavily scarred without the red lipstick, his hair had been washed but still held a tint of green and a small trace of brown at the roots, or maybe blonde, she couldn't tell from this distance. He looked younger without all of that junk on his face, but the disfigurements were clearer, a forever lasting chemical bleaching that no pill could fix.

Come to think of it, she didn't know much of anything concerning the Jokers real identity, in her pursuit to bring him to mild sanity, that aspect of her work took a backseat. She shuddered at the thought, she'd put so much time into him, canceled dates, skipped meals, missed sleep, she even caught herself sleep walking a couple times. Things got really out of hand when single roses began to show up in the drawers back at her apartment; had she been falling asleep during the day, leaving her open to random home invasions? She couldn't remember, she just knew that she was so tired, it made her sick at times how tired she was.

Harleen reached out and laid a hand on the side of the jokers face, she could kill him, she could end his life now and no one would care. She mentally kicked herself for that thought, maintaining your new found humanity meant not stooping to his level she thought. Instead, she used her thumb to feel the scars on the corner of his mouth. His skin was warm. She moved to scratch his scalp gently, she sighed shakily her throat tightening, she felt like crying. There he was unmoving and still she felt hopeless, like the stupid girl who'd rather die than dig herself out of the hole she was born in.

His mouth tensed and a single drop of blood leaked out between his lips and threatened to drip. Harleen went to wipe it away, once a small amount of pressure was applied to the clowns bottom lip, they snapped apart and he bit her harshly. She tried to think fast, not being able to scream in fear of attracting attention, she attempted to pry her hand away and he released her instantly. The second Harleen cradled her wounded digit, the Joker lunged from the table, covering her mouth with his hand and dragging her down to the ground.

His restrains were easy to break as he'd been fiddling with them for days now, the same went for his straight jacket.

He loomed over her, his eyes filled with the silent excitement that one could only find in a child. Her breath came quick and panicked through her nose as his bright green eyes roamed her body.

"My, my, someone has fixed my toy back to shelf quality" he finally spoke.

Her heart was rocking her ribcage with rapid thuds, she had finally reached her goal, and had already let it fall to shit. She just lie on the floor, staring, always fucking staring, nothing more nothing less. The Joker moved his hand from her mouth to her throat, "You're all brand new" his other hand grabbed her limp arm and lifted it from her side. He examined her extremity and tried to stifle a laugh, "However you still have all of your marks, a grade a disaster" he whistled, prideful at his handy work. Harley turned her head to the side and spotted a small speck on the floor along with a small string of fabric hanging from the mattress, she squinted and recognized the blue pill as Valium, a slow acting benzodiazepine meant to sedate the Joker to some effect. He must have spit it out, how she did not know, but he was in no way sedated or even drowsy.

He shoved a hand under her blouse, her breath hitched but she silenced herself as the Jokers eyes met with hers. "If you let out even one peep, I'll crush your throat" he murmured darkly. He felt around encountering many dry patches of scabs and scars, he knew which injuries belonged to him. He stopped as if remembering something suddenly and snatched his hand away from her stomach and chest, then went for the waistband of her dress pants. Her eyes grew wide in panic, "Calm yourself sweetheart, I'm just checking on some territory" he looked focused as he gripped her thigh, finding a large vertical scar. He murmured something to himself in a quiet chuckle and slowly move towards the waistband of her underwear and cupped her privates. Tears welled up in Harleen's eyes, she had scars everywhere, he had literally destroyed her body, these scars weren't going away. He wasn't going away.

"You're a monster" she choked out weakly, on the verge of bawling.

He calmly stood and went over to his bed, Harleen remained on the floor, fighting the deep dread inside her.

"You know" he started "You were a very promising project my dear, much, much more clever than the others" he sat on the bed while she laid still, nearly catatonic. "And I have to admit, I am a little miffed at your current state, it took years to break you-"

"Why" her voice was barely audible.

He blinked, the answer was obvious "Why Harleen" disappointed, the naked faced clown nudged her arm with his foot. "First you lie there, shaking like a rabbit about to be devoured" he snorted. "And now you request an answer that you of all people should know the answer to" he wagged a long pale index finger. "That's no good"

"You're insane" she murmured dryly

The Joker paused and began to pat himself, "You know, people keep telling me that and I can't seem to find my membership card" he let out an amused giggle. "But in all seriousness….well….partial seriousness, what set your clock straight? Last time I saw you, you were normal ol' Harley, and now you've become interesting again"

Harley listened to the clown drone on, like a child with a brand new toy, his voice held an air of wonder and curiosity. She should have listened to Bruce, not only was she totally unprepared for this reunion, but she had no way of defending herself if need be. More importantly, she was reintroduced herself as some souped up tinker toy with kung fu freaking grip.

In her train of thought Harleen tuned out the incoherent prattling of the demon that stalked the floor.

She was so distracted that it took a while to realize that the alarm was going off. Willing herself to sit up, she heard the sound of the automated door opening. The Joker stood at the entrance and looked back at Harley, "I was getting the impression that I was boring you, so I decided to change that." in long slow slides he made his way to Harleen's side and reached in her lab coat pocket and pulled out a tube of her lipstick. "Let's see how long you last this time" he leaned down and gave her a quick peck on the forehead, then jovially skipped out of the room, he'd gotten his spark back and the factory in his mind began to crank away and produce. Using a thumb, he flicked the cap off the lipstick, letting it fall to the ground, clinking like a bullet shell. With the stain of red back on his skin, his nostrils flared, guards began to rush into the hall. Wielding the lipstick as a weapon, he jabbed the soft tip into the eye of a rushing guard, swiftly taking his taser out of his back pocket as he crumpled to the ground. He cranked the dial on the device up to the highest it could go and thrust it into the throat of another guard who let out a hissing gurgle. It was order and disorder at the same time, with a stray stun club that was discarded on the ground he took a hard right and broke into the maintenance room. The lights went off, a chorus of screams and heavy footsteps nearly drowned out the constant blaring of the emergency alarm.

Harleen gathered herself and with her phone flashlight found Leland's office and rushed in. A patient was attempting to apprehend her while she defended herself with a taser that was knocked from her hand by the much larger attacker. He turned quickly to face Harleen and lunged himself at her, screaming out threats and insults. Leland effectively smashed the chair over his head causing the brute to fall to the ground and remain unconscious. Harleen cursed with her hand over her mouth seeing the blood pour from the victims head "What was that thing you used to say about how precious our patients were" the blonde quipped. Leland shot Harleen an annoyed glare, breathing hard from her activity the doctors neat hair was tousled and her face a sheen with sweat. "You better be glad that I had ONE chair" she jogged out of the room and Harleen followed. Leland led them out of an emergency exit and out into the chaos unfolding outside. Ambulances and cop cars littered the streets, nurses and doctors from the asylum along with some inmates, all fleeing the scene.

* * *

A/N: Super sorry for the delay. This year has just been a wealth of up's and down's. I actually had this done a while back but I refused to submit it before I looked over it for errors and such. I mean, there may still be errors but, I just kept reading it bit by bit when I had time. Anywho, leave a review, let me know how this chapter was. Thanks for putting up with me (I update, but I'm still a jackass about it), and thanks for all of the support, it means a lot


	4. Chapter 4: Mood Swings

Ch 4: Mood Swings

Rebirth

* * *

Harleen flexed and clenched her toes, earning a satisfying crack before letting both feet rest on the edge of the bathtub. Her leg had healed and during her recovery windows all over Gotham grew cold to the touch; the holidays were around the corner. She felt absolutely rotten, aching joints and sore muscles did not aid in invoking festive cheer. She failed, the Joker escaped and she had to start from square one all because she didn't prepare herself. Leeland couldn't help her this time, not only was the joker now out of her jurisdiction, her mentor had suggested she take more time to evaluate her plan and overall mental stability. There was more scolding involved in that conversation, and even though Leeland maintained faith in her overall sanity Harleen knew that the doctor was disappointed in her.

When she came back to the manner Bruce was waiting, he seemed to know everything happening everywhere before it became mainstream, she smirked without humor, _of course he did_. It also didn't help that'd she'd been feeling under the weather, like crap honestly from both illness and merciless judgement. A mass of thoughts swirled in her mind, a storm of burden that even this luxurious bath could not soothe. The billionaire had addressed the issue as she walked into the house. He called her an idiot, and that she should try thinking rationally next time. She understood why her psyche was fragile enough to snap like a twig during her other encounters with the Joker. She became obsessed over him, trying to prove herself to her father to Dr. Arkham, herself the list goes on. She was probably making herself sick as well, hell, everything was her fault wasn't it, she wanted to laugh.

Growing up voicing her opinions became deadly especially when _He_ was home. Harleen and her mother were always blamed for his shortcomings, whether it be his lack of employment or sexual fulfillment. It took some time to do, but the 11 year old picked apart his mind, understanding his speech patterns and train of thought to avoid conflict. Her mother joked and deemed her the "Drunk Whisperer", but they both knew Harleen held the key to their survival. Some would consider her intellect a gift, but not Harleen, she found that her mother was severely depressed. She would neglect eating, not to give Harleen more to eat due to their status of poverty but because she no longer had the will too. The woman would only eat if Harleen begged her, typically when the young girl cooked something and asked her to try it, to make sure it tasted right. If there was anything that her mother had it was a good sense of humor, she was a riot really, sharp witted and very funny. As Harleen became successful in gymnastics and anticipated going to college through an academic scholarship her mother seemed to perk up. Harleen was able to get a job and help support her family, her mother was up and active everything seemed complete. Until the day when she gave her mother a consultation for practice...

Her eyes eased open to focus on her feet sticking out of the tub, she wiggled her toes. She was numb, she didn't want to feel right now, she just wanted to wallow in her misery. There was firm knock on the door, Harley made no attempt to make herself decent as someone entered the room.

"It's been 3 hours, you need to stop this" Bruce looked to the side to avoid looking at Harley directly.

"I thought you'd be a man who valued exceptional hygiene" Harleen murmured.

"You damn well know what I mean" Bruce was beginning to lose his patients.

"It's how I cope"

"3 hour baths"

"Humor, laughing at my problems makes me feel better"

"..." He was seething with anger, in all honesty he was more upset with Harleen than he cared to admit. Upon the Joker's escape, the madman had killed two people, assembled as small team of henchmen and disappeared into the city. He was pissed, she had foolishly apprehended the Joker in a controlled environment, assuming that she'd be able to communicate with him successfully. It was negligent, it was beyond negligent, it was stupid, desperate or not he warned her about her actions and she didn't listen.

"Am I making you mad Mister Wayne? Perhaps you are focusing other frustrations out on me" Her voice was calm, even, and obviously rehearsed.

"..." He was utterly sleep deprived, he took time away from his duties to find a work around for her Joker issue. Pulling her old research, finding the tapes of her sessions, all components that would lead her to evaluate the Joker for herself. When, and only when she could do that, he would set up a proper meeting for the two, allowing her to realize that he was a lost cause, his sanity would never return, and she should move on with her life. However, that was all wasted time, foolishly wasted time on his part.

"You're fist are shaking, is there something you'd like to talk about?" her tone held no concern, she even went as to shrug a bit as if nonchalant about the whole situation.

He charged towards Harleen and yanked her up by her arm, her face showing fear and surprise. He then grabbed her chin and forced her to face him, "You want to play dumb with me, go ahead. You fucked up, bad, and I am not going to be a catalyst for your failure. But if there's anything that you will not do, is sit here and feel sorry for yourself" he snatched her forward and she nearly fell out of the tub.

"Who the HELL do you think-"Harleen began to scream, but was yanked out into the hallway.

"Shut up, you want this done then you're going to do it the right way, you are going to find the Joker, and you're going to have him arrested, I'll have some resources brought to your room then you can go from there, and I swear if find you somewhere still moping the Joker will be the least of your concerns" he made it down to her room with Harleen stumbling and slipping after him trying to pull away only to be thrown into her room.

Harleen picked herself off of the ground and started for Bruce, and with one focused swing she punched him in the face. Bruce stood firm and unmoved, a single drop of blood leaked from his mouth. His eyes snapped up to focus on her and he began to back her farther into the room then into a wall, his body flush against hers. "You really, REALLY, don't want me to hit you back" he articulated darkly.

Harleen met his stare with defiance, "Take your best shot….rich boy"

There was a small pause before Harleen moved forward to roughly kiss Bruce who returned it with equal enthusiasm. It was a brutal affair, Harleen's back pressed painfully against the wall, Bruce having the cut in his mouth prodded by Harleen's vengeful tongue. The blonde wrapped her legs around the detective urging him closer if that was even possible.

Bruce was completely sleep deprived, and he was absolutely frustrated with Harleen, but he needed this interaction. As for Harleen, the biting, the scratching and force involved was familiar if not addictive. She could almost taste a memory with the blood inside of billionaire's mouth, she wanted more. A craving for excitement filled her bones among the clashing of teeth and tongue, she tilted her head to deepen the kiss.

As riveting as this was, Bruce knew he had to stop, alarm bells were sounding off in his head when he felt a smile stretch onto Harleen's lips. Of course their carnal actions had stirred him up quite a bit, he was hard and with the way Harleen's hands slid over his sore and tired muscles abandoning his rational thinking might prove beneficial. Reluctantly, he pulled away, this wasn't right, his forceful actions towards her and the way he just outright invaded her space and body.

The former psychiatrist on the other hand pulled at Bruce's body in a desperate attempt to drive them together. He tried to calm her by pressing his forehead to hers, as much as he wanted to claim her body he wouldn't do so by preying on her mental fragility. He let out a shaky sigh in order to regain some semblance of control over his anatomy, yet the only solution involved leaving to take care of himself. Harleen untangled her legs from Bruce's waist and stood only to slump against the wall.

Without a word, Bruce backed away from Harleen and exited the room. What was wrong with him, he's had less sleep than this and functioned with no issue? He would have to actually get some rest tonight, but at this moment he had a cold shower with his name on it.

When Harleen crawled into bed that night she did so with a set of priorities for herself. If she was going to get anywhere with her quest for a normal life, focus was the key. What she felt while being manhandled by Bruce was not healthy, yes everyone had their preferences but she had never recalled an attraction towards danger and violence. As conflicting as it was, that event was helpful, it allowed her to understand that obtaining her stray memories required stimulation.

It was almost as if she could remember the last time her back was forced against a wall, the last time she tasted blood, the last time someone handled her forcefully. It was on the tip of her tongue, she had been in an argument with someone, but who? She fell asleep unfulfilled but dreamt vividly about the night she woke up in that building, she had been there before. She had experienced an act of violence there, but it wasn't the Joker who was responsible. No, she didn't remember him being there at all, it was someone much bigger and covered.

She woke up that afternoon on the floor, her covers holding on for dear life as they trailed off the bed and tangled around Harleen's body. She sat up, fighting the resistance from the cocoon of bedding restricting her, and stood with a slight wobble. The world around her felt like it was buzzing, the sunlight leaking into the room stung her tired eyes, and her body retained fatigue from the past week. Sheets pooled at her feet in ribbons that snagged on her toes every time she attempted to free herself from them. Harleen's frustration grew as she attempted to leave the room and into the bathroom. Once inside she took a deep breath, then began to vomit violently into the toilet.

She sat in the tub as the shower head ran, resting her head on her knees. The multiple heads provided full coverage, providing and soothing spray to all of her muscles. Cold water would be better anatomically, but after throwing up her stomach contents she felt entitled to a little comfort. In all honesty, she hadn't been taking care of herself during her pursuits for the Joker, and now she was paying for it. She vowed to invest in a new and more efficient method in her search for identity. It all started now, well, in a couple more minutes. Harleen laid on her side in the shower, eager or not her body was a hot mess of pains and aches.

ooooo

Alfred found it expected, yet strange that Bruce hadn't been up before him, either tinkering with case files or taking part his strict exercise regimen. He found the big bat still in bed, an arm thrown over his eyes and his covers in total disarray. Some things never changed, even when Bruce was small enough to fit on one of the pillows under his head, bedtime wasn't an easy feat. The first time Alfred was left to care for Bruce as an infant, Alfred would always commend Martha on her patients. He would fight sleep, as if he had something to do, as if he was afraid he'd miss something.

When he was 2 years old, he would wake up and crawl out of his bed, just to follow the night staff around. Alfred was about to suggest baby barriers for the toddler until one day he toddled up to him around 10pm with something metallic clutched in his chubby fist. The butler worked from sun up until sun down, usually marked by putting the young master to bed and leaving his parents to themselves for the evening. He was setting some chicken in the fridge to marinate when Bruce stumbled in the kitchen and right up to him. Clumsily stepping on Alfred's loafer, Bruce patted the Butler's leg until he was picked up.

Alfred sighed, "Isn't your father's study closer than the kitchen? I swear master Bruce, somewhere you have a calendar filled with crayon scribbled memos reminding you to wake up and come find me, you are never late for these appointments, yet you spare your parent's seeing that they have to put up with you all day so you don't appear cruel" he squinted his eyes skeptically, "But you're not fooling anyone, you mobile crumb snatcher, I am aware of your dealings and will not rest until I expose you"

Bruce opened his hand and presented him with his mother's necklace that had went missing a couple of weeks ago. Alfred rolled his eyes, in addition to being an infant night owl he was now learning to be a kleptomaniac, how riveting.

"Your poor mother has nearly made herself mad looking for that, where did you find this?" he knew that Bruce understood him, Thomas had grown worried due to his son's lack of vocalization, but Alfred knew he was competent enough for basic communication.

Bruce frowned now focusing on the cookie jar that sat on the counter behind Alfred.

"No no, this" Alfred patted Bruce's hand with the necklace inside, Bruce tried to put it in Alfred's hand. "Bruce I don't want it, WHERE did you get it? Did someone give it to you?"

Bruce shook his head no, and tried to give Alfred the necklace again, "Mama's necklace" he murmured then went to rub at his eyes.

"Oh no you don't, you're not getting one wink of sleep until you tell me where you got this" it was odd, as much as he liked to joke, Bruce didn't take things that didn't belong to him. It took forever and a day to get him to accept a toy that he wasn't familiar with, without him trying to give it back to its apparent owner. Furthermore, the lady of the house kept all of her jewelry in a lockable display box that either sat on her wardrobe when getting ready for an event or in her closet's wall safe when it wasn't being used. Bruce couldn't access her jewelry due to its height and location, also being as spoiled as he was, he'd find someone to pick him up or reach the thing he wanted.

Bruce pointed out into the hallway, he then led Alfred to the hallway of the full-time staff. He wriggled in Alfred's arms wanting to be set down, allowing the toddler freedom he walked right up to the room of Miss Mandy Poole, one of Martha's personal maids. Of course the help was questioned after some of Martha's jewelry had gone missing but all room checks came up with nothing. Alfred picked up Bruce who was still pointing at the door in front of him.

Sure enough, after a thorough search, all of the missing jewelry was located in Poole's room in a hiding spot under the floorboards.

Now as Alfred stood in Bruce's doorway checking on him, he felt a rush of relief seeing that his master was still fast asleep. Of course his work was beneficial to many, but was it selfish of him to wish Bruce a good night's rest? No matter how old or big Bruce grew, he was still the little night walker, lurking in the shadows looking to right wrongs and bother his poor over worked butler. Alfred smiled a little as he closed the door to the bedroom leaving Bruce to his losing battle with the sandman.

ooooo

The only rest that Bruce could receive that would be sufficient enough for his worn body was anything close to death. He had been awake when Alfred had peaked in on him, he had been awake for some time now, trying to force himself to sleep all day if he could. Highly appreciative of days when he could rest past a certain time, Bruce was plagued by his own mind and the thoughts within it.

Yesterday had been a complete mess, the events of which had not left his mind. Miss Harleen Quinzel was a powerful drug, and he nearly overdosed. The inside of his mouth was still a tad sore from the blonde's punch, even with the vast size comparison she packed quite a wallop. A solid strike, all knuckle and fast, typically his reflexes allowed him to evade unwanted swings but she landed one on him. For a man who lived by facts, he realized that he didn't know much about Harleen and her past, up until this point he had only worried about Harley Quinn until his realization before her accident.

When she roamed the city free from her usual costume, just walking around Harleen looked exceedingly uncomfortable. When deer walk out into the road they do so with caution, they are not always aware of the danger of a car or what one is exactly, yet they tread lightly. She wasn't afraid of the police spotting her, or hidden enemies among the sea of pedestrians she traveled but something simpler. Like when a zipper comes off its track or when a shoe no longer fits, she knew of this world but no longer knew how to operate within it.

ooooo

The rush Dick felt when pursuing a criminal was one like no other, being an adrenaline junky he craved the heat of the chase. Sprinting across roof tops leaving behind no trace, no sound right behind a crook who was none the wiser to his presence. The wind licked his skin numb and cold, and his heart pounded within his chest as he scaled walls and shimmed down drain pipes with ease. He would jump from building to building, no matter how tall they towered above the earth, and stalk the most intelligent of miscreants.

Yes, the whole experience was- Shit someone just hit him!

Harleen leaned over the teenagers shoulder and eyed the worksheets and books in front of him. "You know when I was your age I loved doing homework, I stayed at the library for hours" she picked up a pencil and began to write on one of the sheets, "That's wrong, that's wrong…...please tell me you were joking with this one...chloroplast? Really? The book is bigger than your head and you can't spring to look in there"

Dick didn't know whether to be surprised or alarmed, he knew that the former villain was staying at the manner. Bruce had given him the rundown concerning the situation after he saw a bra hanging from the bathroom door. Women around the house was a common occurrence, but they didn't come over to help him with his schoolwork.

"I don't recall asking you for your help" snatching the sheet away his voice dropped to a grumble, "or your input"

Harleen cocked an eyebrow, she pulled out a chair next to him and sat, "What will Bruce do if you fail a class I wonder?" Harleen's voice was cynically inquisitive, she opened the binder on the table most of the work inside brutalized with red ink. Admittedly, the content the education system dished out now was more complex in comparison to her own school days. Thankfully, her schedule in high school consisted of AP classes and 2 college courses she was able to take early.

The implication of his mentors brooding wrath made Dick's stomach turn, of course they butted heads over various issues but he knew better than to push Bruce. "What gives you the right to try and blackmail me?" he frowned at the blonde.

"It's not blackmail, think about it as delaying the storm to give you enough time to evacuate"

"...What do you want?" criminals never changed, always relying on backhanded tactics to get what they wanted.

"I'm glad you asked" still focused on the table in front of her she gestured to the fridge with a nod. "There a gallon of milk in there….the expiration date has been rubbed off. It's been in there for a couple of days now but I don't know when it was bought" she spoke as if the situation should be approached with the utmost caution. Dropping down to a whisper she began to play with an eraser on the table, "I want some"

Dick was now very confused, "Then go get some?"

"No you don't understand, I spent most of my morning tossing cookies into the bowl and anything….and I mean anything could set it all in motion again" she paused, Dick was now looking at her and actively listening. "Drink it" she urged, "Do the noble thing and sacrifice yourself for the sake of all that's good, let me know that it is safe and through your noble gesture I shall reward you with the greatest gift of all"

"You've got to be kidding me" he wanted to laugh

Harleen continued her speech "Brownies….all the brownies you can eat kid just think of it" she draped an arm around his shoulder, "You'll be the envy of every high school student in Gotham, enjoying some homemade brownies while a super smart doctor helps you with your homework, you will feast like a king" she paused, "And I won't throw up on you"

Dick did as asked, he took the milk out of the fridge and drank it from the jug, "its fine"

"Good, I'll preheat the oven and we can get to work"

3 hours and two and a half tray of brownies later Dick had completed his homework for all subjects and ate himself into a chocolate coma. He and Harley had moved into the living room allowing for increased comfort and an ideal space for the sidekick to collapse onto. Harleen had draped a stray quilt over him before leaving to do some work of her own.

ooooo

The compilation of material that Bruce had prepared for her was quite helpful, she read through her notes and began to make connections. The Joker had several methods of remaining hidden, one way included taking residence in abandoned areas, condemned buildings or structures that were awaiting razing. These environments were excellent areas to hide seeing that all evidence of his presence would be demolished eventually. Harleen also developed a theory that the clown prince hid in plain sight, living a double life of sorts. When she shared this thought with Leeland, the doctor automatically dismissed it, asserting that the Joker was not capable of maintaining such a rouse.

To be fair, her former patient was a mixing bowl of defects, he exhibited antisocial behavior possible Diogenes syndrome and bipolar tendencies. Reading over her notes, she pressed that the Joker be taken off of some of the medication prescribed to him before coming into her care. You had to listen to the Joker when he spoke, his other therapist believed that he was psychotic due to his love hate attitude towards batman and the way he justified his actions. What they failed to notice was that his words made sense and his actions were rational if not strategic.

Harleen referenced the Joker's everyday activities in her research, when separated from the populace and set to do task he would do something interesting. There were trials in which other doctors would come in to oversee his progress, when responding to their questions he would look at the camera. Not the camera used for documenting the trial but the security camera, then would get agitated when the doctor in the room would speak for too long or try to engage him in conversation.

It would appear as if he was speaking to the air or just trying to avoid the person in the room, but Harleen understood exactly what he was doing. Even now as she reviewed her past works, the Joker was so transparent to her that she could slip him over a light and project his inner workings on a wall for everyone to see. He was speaking to her, and she wasn't being full of herself, she made out her own name on his lips. The Joker warned her that he'd only speak to her, and he did just that, spoke to her through the security footage.

There were some elements missing from her research that would allow her to better understand the criminal. First of all, a general history would be nice, to understand his prior living conditions and how he interacted with his peers. Also, how he lived in an uncontrolled environment, when not maintaining a constant rouse , how did he go about his day and what did it say about his condition? Harleen no longer wanted her patient to explain the reasoning behind ruining her life, which was a moot point given his mental state. She was back to her original goal, giving him enough clarity to understand the weight of his actions, to see the slow realization in his eyes is what she craved.

In the small, homely apartment where she spent her childhood, Harleen would spend her time trying to distance herself from reality. Through reading and studying, she could somehow ignore the sounds of her father shouting at her mother. Mommy threatening to kill herself didn't seem so scary when her nose was pressed painfully into the spine of a book. Harleen learned that the cell contained organelles that performed various functions, she also made a note that the in the glossy pages of her text book didn't run with tears.

She understood what was wrong with her mother, and wanted to learn how to help her, something a therapist would be good at. Her mother was like a lysosome, taking on all of the toxins and impurities of her surroundings and sought for a place to dump them even if it meant exiting the cell. She would find her mother in the living room, thrown across the couch, awake but not all there. Harleen would sit near her, in fear that she may do something if left to her own devices for too long. Neglecting her book Harleen would sit cross-legged on the alcohol stained carpet and find anything that could serve as entertainment.

The television was off, it was almost always off until her father found money enough to pay the cable, so Harleen would spend her time watching fly paper. The entire building had a general issue with pest, especially flies, they were large and very aggressive. The moment they adhered to the sticky surface of the fly paper, the little monsters would pitch hell and thrash about. The flies would go from jerking sporadically enough to move the entire paper to growing silent and only struggling every now and then. How she dreamed, no aspired to wrap the Joker in every sheet of fly paper she could get her hands on and force him to be still. Force him to think rationally but not losing his sense of self in the process, or even revert to a personality that once was sensible.

It had been awhile since she did this kind of research, but she would get her answers, and gather the correct materials to properly rid herself of the buzzing fly.

ooooo

Bruce sat at the table inspecting the finished homework, it was Dick's writing he could not deny. He would have to wait until the teenager was awake to properly interrogate him, the kid was smart but he was also lazy at times. Who could've gotten him to do his homework and with this much detail, he answered every question, no short cuts and with adequate paraphrasing? As much as Bruce speculated, he a tad bit relieved upon reviewing the work, with more help Dick could bring himself to become more successful in school. Honestly, Bruce initially sought to punish his sidekick, especially after seeing the contents of his report card. The improvement in his work was impressive, he could cut him some slack for now, until it was time for his next report card.

He had emerged from his room shortly after Alfred left to exercise profusely and track criminal activity. The Joker had ceased all activity abruptly, and baser criminal activity was under control by the local authorities. Bruce needed sleep, this migraine had been riding him for days, taking away from his overall performance. He decided to force himself to lie in bed until his pain lulled him to sleep, no pain killer could help this level of misery. Upon reaching his bedroom he noticed that the door was slightly ajar, he saw Alfred go down to the Bat cave to tidy up, and the boy wonder could still be heard snoring downstairs. He walked in cautiously to find Harleen laying on his bed reading a thick black book.

"Before you say anything, I waited outside but I got tired of waiting, and your bed is huge, come on" she sat up.

Bruce eyed her cautiously, and she responded by holding up her hands to show that they are empty. "I'm not armed, although I do have a question for you, you may want to close the door"

He hesitated but closed the door and waited for her reply, "Well?"

"First, come sit" she patted the space next to her, "After all it is your bed"

He nearly groaned and came to sit down, the minute she left he was going to collapse into it anyway.

"Bruce would you like to have sex with me?"

He turned to face her with a look of disbelief, "Excuse me" he sounded offended.

"Don't take it the wrong way, I'm just asking, I was just reflecting on the incident this morning and if you do, I won't mind"

"Harleen, you need to leave"

"I will" she leaned forward, resting her hands on his shoulders and began to knead them. "I just need an answer to my question" she leaned closer to him pressing her body against his own. "If I am being too forward, or just plain inappropriate, let me know" she whispered in his ear. She had been thinking about it the moment he left her room after the small outburst of passion that morning. They were both consenting adults, and she had no problem with offering, she never has. Her own sexuality was her business, she remained professional about her carnal encounters contrary to popular belief, she had standards. She chose partners that did not boast and would not exploit her interest for inappropriate favors, but because she was open with her sexuality she was labeled a slut. As long as she remained healthy, happy, and not publicly slandered, Harleen was fine with having different partners.

Bruce clenched his fist, the feelings stirred within him were left over from the kiss they shared earlier. God knows he could use some relief, it wouldn't hurt either of them to resolve the tension between them. She wasn't asking if he wanted to date her, only if he watching to have sex. It was a trivial action to him, one that remained a result of his baser needs surfacing and becoming an unwanted distraction.

"I need an answer Bruce, I won't venture farther until I get one"

He looked at her over his shoulder, both of their eyes heavy with fatigue and lust, they could both benefit from it, they needed it. He simply reached back and pushed her back onto the bed. "Try to stay quiet" he murmured before taking a long awaited kiss.

Harleen explored his body with her hands, fingers with red painted nails roaming his chest and toned stomach. She wanted this to be rough and fast, as long as she was satisfied she didn't care.

"Bruce, spare me the foreplay, I can take whatever you give" she sounded smug, which caused the hero to cock an eyebrow. He took her legs and pulled her near until her center pressed against his erection. It hadn't taken him long to get excited, he nearly cursed himself for getting so worked up over skin to skin contact. He ripped off her pants and pushed the crotch of her panties to the side, before adjusting his own pants to free himself. With a single push he was inside her, he began to grind his teeth at how good this felt, he stilled giving her some time to adjust after hearing her hiss.

She was correct to assume that he was a sizable man, but she could take it, as long as she was receiving pleasure and no one was getting hurt. She clung to him pulling him as close as possible then pressed another kiss to his lips. At that he began to slowly fuck her and quickened in pace after hearing her muffled whimpers. He didn't hold back, the bed began to rock, the audible thunk of the bed resonated throughout the room. He hiked one of Harleen legs and had her wrap is around him before placing a hand on the headboard before driving her into the mattress. They're noises were muted but the sound of sex in the room were clear, this lasted for nearly an hour. The same motion with little deviation, two individuals seeking relief in a rough coupling. Harleen felt the building pressure in her loins, she bit her lip as she held back a scream, she was coming and hard. Bruce was not too far behind, but felt her clenching around him, right as she fell from her peak he reached his.

They laid by each other, catching their breath, drenched in sweat and wracked by fatigue. Harleen rolled to rest her head on Bruce's chest, who in turn put an arm around her.

"Holy...Shit" Harleen barely spoke, it came out more like sounds in a labored breath.

Bruce have her head a pat, nodding in agreement, his migraine was gone and he began to fall into a natural sleep. Harleen curled up against him, falling asleep herself. They went at it like teenagers, but the benefit was reaped and in a timely fashion. The two restless souls found a moment of rest and companionship with limited complications. They will revert to their normal habits and task the moment they wake up, but as for now they would rest and wake refreshed.

* * *

A/N: This took a while to put together, I'm still trying to make each chapter longer, I may start setting a page quota for myself. Sorry for taking so long, between school and other factors I've had to put this on the back burning of my responsibilities. However, summer is coming up and I hope to update a lot more, not to mention I'm attempting to utilize my deviantart account and tumblr to start posting schedules for these things, don't worry I promise to post another chapter before the world ends.

As a reward for putting up with me there will be a copious amount of Joker next chapter, so much Joker you'll just start believing me again

(Even if you don't believe in me just lie and say so anyway, it all goes to the same place)


	5. Chapter 5: Sonogram

Ch. 5: Sonogram

Rebirth

* * *

"Jack, Jack" the pregnant woman called from the small green couch centered in the living room. The house was modest but livable, not located in the best area in Gotham but given the condition of it and the price, it served as home. Jack was able to fix all of the abnormalities and broken aspects of the place, Jeannie never had to experience flickering or failing air conditioning units. She sat folding laundry over her swollen belly, waiting for her husband to emerge from his cave of creation. "Jack" she called again, this time drawing out his name.

Some days his hair looked more blonde and other days it appeared brunette but right now it was sticking out in all directions. The man in question rushed into the room disheveled and sweating wearing nothing but a white tank top and a pair of pajama bottoms. "You called?" he inquired, raising a dark eyebrow, the woman on the couch responded by patting the spot next to her.

"Its break time, come sit" she smiled proudly.

"Jeannie I can't just-, you know that chemical needs treating and I-" his shoulders sagged in defeat as the pregnant blonde continued to pat the couch in waiting. Sitting next to her he let his long arms drape across the back of the seat. He eyed her growing stomach with concern, she was only four months pregnant and still so much to be done. Jack's job paid decently, enough to manage his household and tend to his expecting wife, yet he felt trapped. In the beginning it was a fascinating experience, working with his hands and tinkering with machines but now the work was draining.

He became nervous about his dreams deferred, so many people in this town settled for the lives that they lived. No one took chances or tried to achieve the goals they set years ago, they grew old forever regretting all of the wasted time that had gone by. What example would he be setting for his child if he didn't try to break this cycle of monotony; he made it out of the hole by being educated but he didn't want his happiness to suffer as well.

"You still want to do it huh?" Jeannie spoke reaching out to scratch Jack's scalp.

"We're in a good position I can't just quit. As much as I would love to, it's not realistic, it's stupid it's-"

"What you want to do, so it's what I want to do" she smiled tiredly. Jack sighed and laid his sweaty head in her lap, he'd been working on a filter to process a certain chemical that the plant had been playing with. From the moment the sun came up he replaced the newspaper with a set of blueprints and accidentally stirred his coffee with a small wrench. "Do one of your bits" his wife requested.

"A bit? You mean a joke?"

"Yeah, a joke, I need a good laugh, I feel like crap right now"

"Ok ok if you insist" he laughed pressing a kiss to her stomach. "So my grandma had the deepest voice you could ever hear from a woman, but don't get me wrong she was a beautiful woman" he shifted to lay on his back. "It was like Audrey Hepburn with Robert Loggia's chops" he paused to snicker with Jeannie. "Anyway it threw people off when she spoke even down to my own mother. Now I'm speaking about my grandma on my father's side of the family, she had 6 boys and they all sound like her! Grandpa on the other hand is very soft spoken. I swear one day I sat next to him watching the game, I of course didn't hear a thing, but I watched the game and left. Next thing I know, we're getting aggressive Christmas cards"

"How does that work?" Jeannie asked with a chuckle.

"Well one Christmas you get a card that reads 'Let the lord bless you this Christmas day, with many presents and even more joy' but that Christmas it read 'You Suck' and nothing else I shit you not"

Jeannie covered her mouth to laugh but still let out a snort, "Oh my god" she wheezed.

"And I knew it was him, it was in all capitals, but in the most beautiful calligraphy, like should I be upset? I considered still keeping it on display because it was written so nicely so much nicer than the others, the next time I saw him I heavily considered pushing his ass over to see what next year's message would be" Jack stopped to stretch. "But let me tell you about my Grandma"

ooooo

The Joker didn't like being ignored, he had orchestrated an entire heist just to mess with the Bat, now he lie in a condemned building surrounded by money and no satisfaction. Not to mention Harley provided him with a source of entertainment, but she wasn't Harley anymore was she? He grinned, oddly enough he had trouble finding her, and after their little chat at Arkham no one had spotted his little blonde minion in the city.

Honestly he didn't care about her well-being, if anything he sought to play with his old doctor, it was a challenge. Once, she followed his every word, worshipped the ground he spilled blood on, and now she was acting like his little ol' shrink again. As much as it titillated him, he found himself growing angry at the thought, she somehow shook his influence like it was nothing, it was an insult. He would find her, she was still in Gotham and someone she knew had to have let her into Arkham.

As for now he remained unopposed, Batman had to have something or someone distracting him. Whatever the source, for something to garner the Bat's attention away from crime fighting must be worthy of his attention as well. The Joker stood up and walked away from the sea of money that surrounded him, he'd probably set all of it on fire. He had some work to do, information to gather and people to see.

ooooo

Harleen's head lie on Bruce's chest that rose and fell with his breathing, the billionaire was still asleep. She on the other hand felt too tired to leave this warmth of the bed, she was completely worn out. The man she was using as a giant pillow began to stir, his body went stiff before relaxing again. Harleen whined when he sat up, she followed suit, throwing her legs over the side of the bed.

"This can't continue, you know that right" Bruce spoke.

Harleen stood nude and began to fix her hair, "Yeah, we got it out of the way, good job champ" she raised her hand for a high-five.

Bruce gave her a look of disbelief as he eyed her hand, trying to distract himself from her nudity.

"Come on, it's like congratulations after a good game, but like after sex" she still held her hand up in waiting.

"Harleen" he warned.

"Ok fine, I'll high five myself" she shrugged before grabbing her clothes, putting them on before walking out into the hallway.

Harleen promptly went to the bathroom to throw up, she dearly hoped Harley didn't take any drugs that ruined her stomach lining. She decided to get some fresh air, her old lifestyle must have done a number on her body, and she had to start eating better getting her health back. Harleen took a quick shower and dressed in a pair of jeans and a light blue shirt, she kept her hair out of her face with a headband matching her shirt.

During her employment at Arkham Harleen spent her mornings and lunch hours at a modest Cafe that sat on the edge of town. Away from the hustle and bustle of the city, she found comfort in the silence as she read the paper and went over her notes for the day. Due to her unknown past she made sure to get a haircut before venturing into familiar territory. Furthermore, she was always dressed for work when she came in for breakfast and lunch, she looked much younger without her glasses and ponytail. She also lacked any makeup or jewelry, without her usual get up, Harleen looked like a totally different person.

She was working away at the cross-word puzzles, when someone sat in front of her, Harleen stilled and slowly looked up. The man in front of her began solving the puzzles for her, his eyes focused on the paper as if there wasn't a care in the world. Harleen squinted at him, his face was familiar, the man hadn't even spoken but she swears she could almost hear the sound of his voice, then it dawned on her.

"Eddie?"

"What is considered a voiceless jester, could also be an adjective describing something that possesses multiple colors" the man handed her the crosswords, completed with a few notes scrawled on the side.

"You're out?" she whispered looking around suspiciously.

He followed her gaze looking around himself, "That depends on what your definition of 'out' is doctor. More importantly, my assumption about your person is correct, please tell me there are more of you" he leaned forward with intrigue, giving her a smug grin.

"Excuse me?" she met his gaze with narrow, annoyed eyes.

"I'm just asking, not wanting to offend, I swear" he straightened up and gave her a sincere nod.

Harleen perked up, "You knew me when-"

Edward shushed her and looked around, "Yes yes, keep your voice down, a good crook is one who is aware that they are one but has enough sense to fool everyone else" he warned.

"You need to tell me what I did, can we talk here, we can talk anywhere I need to know" she pleaded, grabbing one of his hands in desperation, as if he would disappear any minute.

The contact was a bit jarring, she was a totally different person, not one mention of the Joker, her accent was very mild, and no bad puns. "Everything that's happening could be ripped straight out of a textbook, it's so painfully obvious, but in both variations of yourself your Joker fixation remains"

Her expression dropped and she grew pale, she looked down at her reflection in her drink. Her eyes were blackened with a thick syrup like substance that poured in thick, grotesque clumps. She flinched hard hitting her knee on the table, the blonde had to close her eyes to gain her composure. "I need to throw up"

Edward eyed her with both curiosity and caution, Understandable, give your-" he paused to watch her gag "conditions..." he then waved down a waitress and made a request. When she returned she sat down a glass of water with a lemon wedge on the lip of the glass. Also a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream was sat in front of Harleen, Nygma thanked the waitress who smiled and walked off. "Eat the ice cream first"

"I can't I need to throw up" her eyes began to water as she tried to keep herself from vomiting.

"I find that nausea is three fourths physical and one fourth mental, if you tell yourself that then you are, it becomes all you think about. So eat that and stop thinking about it"

Harleen couldn't argue, she picked up her spoon at ate, the minty flavor soothed her tense throat. She took deep breaths and eventually calmed herself, she took time wipe the water away from her eyes.

"No need to speak just yet, after all, you are eating for two, wouldn't want to make the other half as upset as you are" he continued to analyze her, "I'll round that up in time" he cocked his head to the side, "As for your previous request, you know how this works better than anybody, I don't give answers the conventional way, it's lazy, especially with such a good head on your shoulders" he smiled. "Furthermore, I would like some information of my own"

"So I can give you straight answers, but you get to give me riddles" she frowned.

"Don't act indifferent, the arrangements are the same as they were when we last spoke with one another, and I do mean me and you, for who you are now" he murmured squeezing the lemon wedge in the water and pushing it towards Harleen. "Drink this"

"Why are you helping me? I can't tell you anything about the Joker" she accepted the water.

"Of course not, you don't remember, it common given your condition" he paused, "And if I recall you were the first one to ask for my help"

"...You better give me gold Eddie, because I'm mighty tempted to hit you in the mouth right now"

"I'll give you enough gold to make Midas sick with envy, but first you, how did this-"he gestured to her whole person, "Happen, what brought Harleen Quinzel back?"

"I woke up in an abandoned building, I think I fell through the sky light, I must've hit my head, but I feel like I lost three years of my life" she deadpanned.

"Who are you staying with" he watched her shift uncomfortably, "I don't want names, but rather an association"

"There is none, he says he knew me, but I don't know when exactly"

"Interesting, have you been out lately?"

She had to word this carefully, "I don't get out often, I have been out once to see a friend and now"

"I expected as much, last question I promise, has Harleen seen the Joker sense her return"

Harleen didn't appreciate how that question was phrased but she had no choice but to answer, "Yes"

"See, that wasn't so hard, now I will write you a little answer sheet and a phone number, I want details, no phone calls only text" he cracked his knuckles, giddy with anticipation. "Only for emergencies, I will not help you with the answer sheet just let you know when you're right"

"I don't understand, what do you get out of this other than some dissociative factoids" she began to grow aggravated, she wasn't about to be preyed upon by another criminal.

"You are forgetting so much, by choice at this point, you may need to reflect personally to answer most of your own questions about by motive, but as for a tangible reward I require two things" he held up two fingers for emphasis.

"What" her face held her growing frustration.

"I want your records on me, and your old lab coat" Nygma tapped his fingers against the table.

"I'm not going to question it, at this point I can use all the help I can get, however if you screw me over Eddie, in anyway, there is no riddle or word puzzle that will keep me from finding you, and hurting you"

"There will be no deception, I promise" he extended his hand, "deal"

Understanding the Joker's patterns of temporary residence was one thing, but she was far from finding him. She lacked the sweet, sticky sap to trap the fly on his paper, perhaps some insight from Nygma would push her in the right direction. She could take any information in these riddles and apply them to her notes as she once did when he was her patient. "Deal" she reached out and shook his hand.

"Good, I'm glad we are in agreement"

Harleen stood taking the paper, there were seven riddles on the paper, "Does it matter which one I work out first"

"Confident are we? If you're that eager to solve them, then I'm sure you can find the answer to your own question"

Harleen went to leave before Edward caught her arm, "I don't want to sound like an overbearing mother, but make sure to follow up with me on these, or everything is going to get….messy"

This should have been seen as a threat, but Harleen took a minute to consider her former patient, it wasn't a threat. "Thank you"

ooooo

How do you count to three without repeating yourself?

Harleen looked at this and cursed herself for accepting the help of an obsessive compulsive riddle king. There were seven riddles provided for her, each of them serving as answers that will reveal aspects of her past criminal persona. The number three had to be significant somehow, maybe it represented the number of years that she lost, but she had no recollection of that. Many people counted to three went making action based decisions, usually when reluctance was at play. If you ask someone to pick a number from one to four they will most likely choose three, it is the first odd prime number in the numerical system is it also the smallest. It is the only triad, all numbers proceeding it equal it when added together, there are so many things about the number three that one could list.

She read over it again, count to three, she repeated to herself, Nygma took the time to number this list of riddles. She believed that it was because he presented them in the order that she should solve them in. Harleen considered trying to solve the riddles in whatever order they came to her then order them, but the first one stumped her completely. When Nygma was her patient, he made her work for her paycheck, but somehow she managed to understand him. Then he never wrote down his brain teasers, she would on her legal pad and tinker with them later. Other doctors wouldn't bother, they'd just try to convince him that he should try communicating in another way, partly because they couldn't decipher his riddles.

Doctors typically had eleven plus years under their belt in education, and Nygma had high expectations for them. By neglecting his riddles, they proved themselves unworthy of his intellect and would resist working with them. Harleen could remember the first riddle that he gave her, they were both sitting in her office, he was a nonviolent so only his hands were cuffed.

"A king that wants to remain king has three children and one problem, why is this"

Harleen thought about it for a day, while she made dinner for herself that night the answer was clear. Edward was surprised when she called him back in for another session, "I see that you haven't had me passed to a different shrink?"

"Given that the King has three children total, two of them would be daughters and the last one a son"

He responded excitedly, with a smile on his face "So what's the problem?"

"Well to remain King he can marry off his daughters, but he'll have to kill his son" Harleen observed the man sitting in front of her, it was like watching someone meet with their closest friend. His shoulder sagged and he relaxed in the light brown couch that sat in front of her desk, he displayed relief.

"We can begin, I'll take whatever you throw at me" Harleen assured

"I'm glad"

He knew that side of her, the side that wanted to help people, the side that strived to do her job the way it was supposed to be done. She continued to make progress with him until the Joker came to Arkham. Harleen did take time to see the genius during his recreational hours, these visits lessened as she became preoccupied with her new assignment. The last thing she can remember concerning Nygma was overhearing some coworkers mention that he'd been taken to the infirmary due to a stab wound.

Now she sat in the room provided to her by Bruce, he had left to go to a business meeting around seven. This riddle shouldn't have taken her this long to figure out, but she felt as if she was overthinking it. These were made to help her, not to confuse her, everything that she either on this paper or in her memories.

She eyed the numerated riddles then took out a sheet of paper and a pencil, she had some addition to do.

ooooo

The small prepaid phone that he stole while walking through a small dollar store began to glow and vibrate. He had honestly forgotten about it until hearing it, he knew the good doctor wouldn't give up so easily when presented with a challenge.

The text message read 6,1,5,7,2,3,4*

His heart began to tremble, she took the time to do the math, this should get her on the right track! More importantly, she didn't give up or render the answers too hard, Harleen had returned and he couldn't be more overjoyed. He was staying in a motel for the time being, being caught always sent him back a few steps but he was smart enough to prepare for this inconvenience.

Harleen was such a treat to be around and when Harley Quinn showed up it hurt him seeing this imposter invade the doctor's body. Harleen was supposed to remain his doctor, and her methods were helping him cope with his compulsive tendencies. He was able to open up to her without using his riddles as a crutch, he wasn't concerned about proving his intelligence his only concern was their conversation. When the idiots at Arkham assigned her the Joker, he thought he would never see her again but she still came to see him! This went on until he had to be taken out of general population because of a stabbing, he didn't see who had done so the attacker had come from behind.

Edward has a feeling that the Joker and Harleen were connected somehow, he wanted to know how the Joker broke her. It couldn't have seen a simple feat either, her head was screwed on tight, she was goal oriented and never strayed from a task. Her descent into madness was completely undocumented, however the aftermath was available on file for anyone with proper clearance.

He'd take a small break from his usual dealings to help her, after all he owed it to her, she was the only one to try.

ooooo

She began with the sixth riddle "You bury me when I am alive but dig me up when I die, what am I?" this one was simpler than the last one. She sent Nygma the answer and upon getting the good response, she grew confused. How is a plant supposed to help her find out the bulk of her criminal history, why couldn't he just give her the information straight up!? Harleen understood why he structured his answers this way but failed to see these as answers.

Harleen went back to her notes, Bruce had found nearly all of her original research, even when she was searching for alternative medicine options. As much as she appreciated conventional medication she had been reading up on more natural remedies. She read over an article by Pamela Isley, wait she's interviewed Dr. Isley while she was a patient in Arkham. It was a real shame what happened to her, it was the first Harleen had seen of rumored metahumans. For a short while in Gotham, doctors, engineers and other professionals were being sucked into the crime demographic. Illegal substances were being created for dangerous experiments, some even being tested on humans.

If she was thinking correctly, she needed to find Pamela Isley who now answered to Poison Ivy rather than her human name. But how in the hell was she going to find her, Harleen took time to try and solve the next Riddle. "I was once living, but now I am short and flat on the top, this is the only way you'll have dates to put on my tombstone" she rewrote the riddle down for herself. Biting the inside of her cheek she sent Nygma a text, another correct response, "Ok….a stump….that's what happens when you cut down a tree, which is what Poison Ivy, a plant, would not want, where are trees being cut down?"

Grabbing the newspaper with the cross words on it from earlier that day she began to search for her answer, finding it in the editorial section. A small botanical garden was being shut down after the cold weather and a lack of proper funding caused the plants to die. There would be no way to make the necessary purchases to replace the old plant life, and the keepers of the garden had exhausted all options and sought help through a fund raiser. According to this editorial, citizens of Gotham were urging to garden keepers to sell the place and give up all of the arable land. Looking at the pictures of the damage done, the only plant life consisted of seasonal trees, and the couple had until today to decide the fate of the garden.

Pamela would have to be there, even if the garden was saved, the chance of the trees being cut down had to anger her enough to make an appearance.

ooooo

When Harleen showed up to see a crew of men cutting down the trees to make way for a brand new strip mall she expected to see Poison Ivy throwing a fit. She didn't expect to be forced into an alley and choked by a green woman in a trench coat. Pamela had gotten worse, her skin held no complexion of a healthy human, only the green of a well photosynthesized plant. Maybe the next riddle would've warned her about this encounter but after solving, she found it wasn't relevant.

Her legs kicked helplessly as she was lifted off of the ground by thick, menacing vines that wrapped around her body and throat, squeezing her. Pamela looked pissed, what the hell did she do to her, what the hell did Harley do to her?

"You think walking around without your costume will hide you from me? After what you and your little boyfriend pulled I'd love to grind you up into mulch"

"D-dr. Isley, you're making a big mistake" Harleen wheezed.

"What did you just call me!?" Poison Ivy snapped, shedding her coat revealing her full self.

"It's me Harleen" she gasped, "I spoke with you at Arkham, please, let me down" her red face was slowly growing blue, "please"

The vines retracted enough to allow her prey to breathe and speak properly, but she wouldn't release her just yet. "Have you gone completely insane, what are you going on about? I have an entire grove of babies to save I don't have to time to hear you prattle on"

"I get that, I really do, but hear me out, trust me Miss Isley" she felt the vines tighten again, "Poison Ivy" she corrected herself. "Just give me five minutes that all I need"

ooooo

"So if I did believe you, which I don't, you came to ask me about your-"

"Harley's, not mine" Harleen corrected, she didn't want any confusion.

"...Harley's crimes, whatever"

"Yes, that's all I want"

The botanist folded her arms over her chest, "What do I get out of this, 'helping' you?"

Harleen shrugged, she didn't have money to give away as a reward and Pamela wasn't exactly Nygma, she'd want something of worth. After she'd left him the notes and her coat at the address provided he hadn't asked for anything else. Being a man she half expected him to be eyeing her the way that the red head circling her did. Poison Ivy took Harleen back to a spot in the forest where Ivy had created an entire ecosystem of plant life. They sat under a canopy of leaves near a river, the trees around them were heavy with fruit and flowers.

It was all beautiful, but this imposing green woman who could kill her with a snap of her fingers was leering at her like a piece of meat. Harleen stood stiff, "What do you want?"

Poison Ivy reached out and played with a strand of Harleen's hair, it was a clean powdery blonde. Ivy remained skeptical about the doctor's explanation, but she understood how Dissociative Personality Disorder worked. When Harleen sat in front of her during their interview, the perky doctor was bouncing with excitement. The questioning had nothing to do with her mental status, but more about her research, Ivy gladly indulged her.

"If it means anything, I looked to your thesis when I was in a rough spot in my work, I would really love to talk more about your career one day" she bashfully began to play with her hands.

"My pheromones can manipulate men and women with ease, during our first meeting I was inadvertently producing a copious amount of these chemicals" she ran her hand up Harleen's back. "I should've hand you eating out of my hand" her soft green digits closed in on Harleen's chin to tilt her head upwards. "This was the first instance of your resistance to my toxins, you just went on and on asking me questions like a little school girl, you didn't even mind that I was completely naked"

Harleen's cheeks grew a tad pink, "We're all born naked" this was ridiculous, Harleen came here for answers about her life, not for a surprise lecture on alternative medicine. "But what do you want that would convince you to help me?" she swallowed, trying to sound serious.

"I want a kiss"

So much for trying to sound serious, Harleen's next sentence came out a stuttered mess, "I-I-I-I guess, as long as w-we speak about Harley, why d-do you want that?" Harleen didn't have a disposition when it came down to gender but this was Pamela fricken Isley.

"You talk too much" she crouched down to capture Harleen's mouth, she bit the blonde's lower lip causing her to gasp and giving Ivy an opening to deepen the kiss. Harley was very committed to her puddin' and wouldn't dare share herself with another man or woman. This gesture proved enough, Harleen was absent of her clown loving alter ego, but there was no harm in testing the waters. She gripped Harleen's thighs kneading upwards before her fingertips grazed the crotch of her pants. Ivy was a succubus trying to sap the life out of this little angel, whose innocence shielded her from becoming tainted and used.

The redhead moved from Harleen's mouth to her neck sucking lightly before speaking into her ear. "You taste so pure, you'd look so good in green too" she bit her earlobe, "Let me germinate you, get you moist and healthy then keep you safe and warm until you begin to sprout, you'd be my own creation being the blank slate that you are" she grinned and began to slip her hands under Harleen's shirt.

Harleen put her hands on Ivy's shoulders to put some distance between them, "Pamela, please I need answers" she was flustered but spoke with sadness in her voice.

Ivy huffed with disappointment, "It was worth it, what do you want to know?"

ooooo

Harleen sat in front of a bruised Bruce, applying alcohol to his cheek, "This looks bad, I'm not sure if I should ask"

"It would best if you didn't" he murmured, his face then grew confused, "Is that a leaf?"

Slowly, she reached her mouth and pulled a full leaf out that was stuck to the inside of her cheek.

"Should I ask?" he cocked an eyebrow

"It would be best if you didn't"

He was a territorial person, not many were privileged enough the see the inside of his bedroom. The dark colored walls were rarely grazed by sunlight, the black curtains always drawn closed unless opened by Alfred. She sat on his mattress like they shared the bed together, she gave him a sense of peace by being near. Gentle hands held his face, giving first aid to the only mark he sustained from last night's patrol. He closed his eyes to think, he had to monitor the locations of his trackers, check the surveillance of problem areas and create a containment map.

Harleen watched his body slump forward, whatever he was out doing it drained his energy. She pulled his body forward allowing him to rest his head on her chest, she felt him flinch at her movements. She began to run her fingers through his short black hair, he was like a giant child who needed a nap. Harleen didn't mind comforting Bruce, or anyone for that matter, she's had to provide the same for her mother. As Bruce began to fall asleep, she let her mind roam, attempting to comprehend recent information.

Ivy answered most of her questions concerning her personality and lifestyle as Harley. Her other personality was least problematic when away from the Joker, although she did continue engaging in criminal activity when separated from her clown prince boyfriend. She did have her squabbles with the Joker, typically staying with Ivy until the situation cooled down. The two women would go on crime sprees of their own, but when Harleen returned to the Joker their relationship would suffer some complications as well.

Harleen understood that there would be no book or database to chronicle her life as Harley but talking to Ivy gave her some peace of mind. Honestly, she wouldn't mind going back and speaking with the woman, yes they made out but Harleen never let trivial matters bother her. Hell, she had sex with Bruce and now she had him asleep on her lap with absolutely no guilt or discomfort.

In college, men were baffled by Harleen, she wasn't promiscuous but she did have a tame amount of sex. If an attractive young man, and perhaps even a woman if ever offered, showed interest in her she didn't mind. As long as both parties respected one another, and they were safe, she didn't mind having casual sex or giving someone a kiss. Her partners would bed her and expect for her to stay around or even seek a deeper investment after their coupling and she would move on easily.

On one occasion one of her lab mates shared a bed with her for a night, and he had expected her to talk about it or hint at it when they went back to work. Conversely, she not only didn't mention it but flat out ignored him when he tried to bring it up to gauge her reaction. He grew bolder and threatened to tell anyone who would listen about their sexual exploits after she refused to have sex with him again. She responded with a shrug and continued to tinker with the spectrophotometer and take down the right measurements.

A rumor spread but had a short life, she was accused of sleeping her way to the top and quickly dispelled these. People went to her for help with their homework and studies, as well as life advice. She didn't care what other branded her, she worked hard and graduated early, this is all that mattered to her. The young man responsible for starting the rumor however got caught cheating during an exam and was expelled for his misconduct. His shortcoming did not provide her with satisfaction, she was merely disappointed that another young mind succumbed to ignorance and dishonesty. Although, that did not keep her from giving him a friendly nod when passing him in the hallway as he lugged around moving boxes and a diminished sense of self-respect.

Carefully, she scooted back on the bed and placed a pillow under Bruce's head, hopefully he would get some real rest.

ooooo

Fresh air, no air conditioning, windows or walls blocking the breeze, only fresh unfiltered and nostalgia triggering air. You could smell the exhaust off a passing bus and the smell of hot dogs cooking on a cart. The wind was steady and cold, and now that the sun had gone down, a jacket was necessary to maintain comfort. Now fully immersed in the Gotham atmosphere Harleen experienced a feeling, sitting on a park bench and watching the time go by and the sky grow dark.

Yes, it was cold and police sirens served as the soundtrack to her calm evening, but she felt liberated. She was gaining progress and slowly but surely taking her life back, Harleen was probably grinning like an idiot right now and didn't care. In time, after solving the riddles and speaking more with Ivy, Harleen could move on to repair the shattered remains of her life.

This part of the park was a bit isolated, but perfectly quiet and the ideal environment for self-reflection. Soon she would need to find a job and get another apartment, she wanted to find her old one and see if she could retrieve some things. Having a criminal record, she'd need to find some way to either get that pardoned to assume a new identity. Harleen didn't want to sacrifice all of those years of study just to no longer use it. There had to be a way that she could still help people, and not by succumbing to underground tactics, no she wanted it all back.

She wanted the Joker to be watching a television and witness her come back to the world as a wiser and stronger individual. To have her colleagues and acquaintances accept her back with open arms as she told the story of her struggle. To wipe away all traces of the Joker, to eliminate him as an obstacle, to give him a knowing nod as he was sitting in a cell awaiting the end.

She shivered a bit, not at the harsh nature of her fantasy, but at a change in the air, a new presence.

"I love this city you know, the crime is bad but the city has its charm"

She froze, her own breath caught in her throat, and her entire body went numb. The air around her became stale and dry, the life had been sucked out of the wind and herself as well. He found her, and not only that, proceeded to sit next to her and make small talk as if everything was normal. Harleen had been trying to find way to corner this bastard, exposing his hiding place, hunting him down and rob him of any sense of security that he may have had before.

At the very moment she began to regain her sense of self, he appeared, out of nowhere, to comment on the city's crime. She tried to remain calm, but her flesh began to tremble and her hands balled into fist. She flinched feeling him move next to her, as he draped his long arms across the back of the seat they now shared. He crossed his legs, and his body relaxed into the seat while she sat taught and frightened, and judging by the tone of his voice he had to be wearing a smile.

"Don't be like that Harls, there's no need to act like a stranger around me" he remarked, turning his head to glance down at her.

He was relishing the effect that he had on her right now, his hand now rested on her stiff, unmoving shoulder. "Not very vocal today are we? After our last little chat I'd think that you'd want to continue where we left off Harley" he took time to drag out her name before being cut off.

"Harleen" she corrected through her clenched teeth.

"You're really adamant about maintaining that distinction aren't you dear?" his tone was condescending. He didn't appreciate her correcting him over the identity he established within her.

"Why are you here?" she snapped in monotone.

He raised an eyebrow and laughed a bit, "Really? After all that trouble at Arkham that's the question you start with, one that I already answered need I remind you"

"How the hell did you find me?"

"Better, but still boring" he rolled his eyes. "I wasn't even trying to honestly, I just spotted you getting off a bus not too far from here. Odd, that coat is too nice for someone taking the bus to wear, you must have connections in some high places"

She swallowed, "So you saw me get off the bus and just followed me from there?"

"What...no, I got a pretzel first, lost sight of you, took a walk through the park and there you were" he gave a halfhearted shrug.

She looked at him with a distressed face, he looked partially normal just as he looked in the asylum that day. In fact, when he was her patient, she'd never really seen him in full makeup, yes his appearance was a little abnormal but the makeup exaggerated his features. His face was heavily scarred and his skin was discolored, also his hair was a mix of blonde brown and green. He was hiding in plain sight, so anyone that walked by wouldn't think anything of the two sitting casually on the bench.

"You've caused me a lot of grief lately" he gave her a little shake

Harleen didn't speak, she tried to remain silent, hopefully he would get bored and leave.

"The silent treatment? How cruel, I just want to talk to you, if I recall correctly you loved talking to me, did everything you did to talk to me, I guess that backfired on you in the long run though" he took time to let out a joyous cackle.

Harleen lashed out, aiming a fist for his face, she wanted to knock that grin right off of his lips. In her frenzied attack, the Joker caught her arm and took this opportunity to pull her closer. "You've apparently forgotten the wealth of hard work that I put into you, making you what you are" his large hand wrapped around her throat.

She instantly panicked, kicking her legs only to have more of her body drawn in and restricted by the man sharing the bench with her. After angling her in such a way that his body forced her more into the seat he covered her mouth with his other hand. His breathing became labored from having to exert enough energy to restrain her and from his own personal excitement from his actions. With a combination of being choked and having a hand over her mouth screaming was out of the question and she just continued to thrash.

One of her shoes and an earring lay on the ground while her coat was now hanging off a shoulder and her hair disheveled. "You need a reminder" he growled into her ear as she began to lose consciousness. She took this time to remain calm, saving as much air as she could, her vision was going red, not black, but a deep blood red. As her body began to grow limp she felt a hand playing with loose strands of her hair.

She began to see stars and then she saw nothing.

ooooo

He couldn't stand the sound of crying, more importantly the sound of her crying. It didn't annoy him nor did he find it a hindrance, but being a problem solver it indicated something wrong that he wanted to fix. Machines weren't simple, but they made sense to him, in enough time he could take something apart and put it back together working and functional. A pregnant woman was not a machine, she's a person, made of tissue and fluids, far too delicate to repair mechanically. Not to mention the extent of his medical knowledge stopped at basic chemistry, all he knew was that her hormones were taking her on a rollercoaster ride.

This morning he woke up to a smiling ball of sunshine, energetic and perky, ready to cook breakfast and start the day. Now she was reduced to a sobbing heap, cooped up in their bedroom, blinds drawn closed in complete silence save for her crying. He didn't want to aggravate her, these mood swings happened to expecting mothers, but his hands began to itch and burn ready to repair. He eventually got up to go comfort her in any way that he could, walking upstairs and into the room.

He walked over to the bed, crawled next to her and hugged her close to his body, gently playing with her hair. She stiffened but soon relaxed her crying now softer and less agonizing, he lie there in silence, waiting for her to speak.

"I'm so sorry Jack" she sniffed and began to sit up, having a hard time doing so

"It's ok, what's up with you huh" he sat up along with her, putting a helping hand on her back to help her steady herself.

"No no I'm fine, I just, I don't know there's just…..it's too much, too much to even" she wiped the fresh tears brewing in her eyes.

"We don't gotta talk about it" he gave her a lopsided grin, "we can just sit here" he reached over to rub her stomach. "I can't even imagine how you do this, let alone other women"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean there's a tiny person in there, and you're not even charging them rent" he rubbed his chin thoughtfully

Jeannine snorted and laughed, caught off guard by Jack's quick humor. "Are you serious?"

"I mean you got a tenant in there, kicking the walls and partying all times of the night, not to mention they're taking up more space than they initially said, god forbid there's someone else in there"

Jeannine gave Jack a playful push, "Oh stop it, you're making my face hurt, laughing so much"

"But uh, just between me and you" he looked over his shoulder as if checking for eavesdroppers, "By the time their lease is up, getting that security deposit back is outta the question" he flashed her a toothy smile before being hit with a pillow.

"What are you trying to say you jerk" she continued to laugh her tears now dry. "You think the baby is gonna wreck up the place?"

"All I'm saying, is that they're not coming outta there without a fight" he leans in to whisper, "I hear their dad is a mean drunk"

The sound of her laughter was a lot better than the sound of her crying.

ooooo

She woke up screaming, thrashing and feeling for her neck with the memory of her attack still fresh in her mind. A nurse appeared in the door, but Harleen felt a large firm hand on her chest that gently pressed her back into a resting position. The blonde laid back with a pitiful whimper, waiting for the two in the room to finish their conversation. Bruce assured the nurse that he had the situation under control, but did request that she come back in a few minutes.

"Do you want anything?" he didn't want to push her for answers although it burned him not knowing what happened.

"No" she rasped, her eyes tearing from the pain in her throat.

"They'll have to take some x-rays to make sure nothing is broken before discharging you"

She stared at the ceiling, trying desperately to remember what happened, but nothing came to her. The usual numbness that came from her feeling of helplessness transformed into a blow burning rage. Just to imagine, if she was dealt enough trauma she could revert back into her old personality, or a new one she knew nothing about. Harleen allowed her focus to falter, ever so slightly, and left herself vulnerable to attack.

"Nothing Bruce..." she wheezed.

He leaned in to hear her better

"Nothing else, no more distractions, I have to do this no matter what"

Bruce went to reply when the doctor walked in, "Sorry to interrupt, how are you feeling Ms. Doe?" the doctor spoke giving Bruce a reassuring nod. Wayne enterprises funded many establishments throughout the city including some private funding to the hospital at which they were currently located.

Harleen looked to Bruce for an explanation, "Jane Doe" he remarked, they had to be discrete given her previous criminal status.

"My throat" she gestured to neck area.

"I can imagine, those are some nasty bruises, but nothing that time can't fix" the man walked over giving Bruce a firm handshake before turning his attention to Harleen. "Let's have a look" he surveyed the damage, her skin showed definite signs of strangulation, but judging by their orientation the individual knew what they were doing. It looked as if the assailant wanted to just block her airways and leave bruises, not to kill her. Her throat would hurt, but as he pressed and felt there were no broken bones, just swelling.

"We'll get you an x-ray, just to make sure, but from what I feel everything is where it should be" he gave them both a reassuring nod. "You're very lucky, usually the stress induced by an attack of this nature would've prompted a miscarriage-"

"Wait, what" she frowned turning her head to look at the doctor.

The doctor looked to Bruce, then back to Harleen, "Yes, being strangled has been known to cause pregnant women to miscarry"

She could only hear a dull ring in her ears, drowning out the sound of Bruce's words and the doctor's questions. The entire world sank away from her like sand leaving her in her bed alone and in darkness.

She was pregnant.

* * *

A/N: Ok this should be the final edit for this chapter

The formatting was getting a little screwy and I had to change the way I did my section separations

Some of you may notice that they used to be "+" symbols

Now they have changed to "ooooo"

I hope that doesn't confuse or inconvenience anyone, I'm very sorry I didn't notice this change earlier

Anyway, I hope this chapter makes up for that little snafu

Sometimes I just get really tired and grossly sad, it prevents me from wanting to do anything

But I got over myself enough to write more

I'll post the riddle key in this section when I get back home (I'm on vacation right now)

I hope you all enjoy and leave a review if you'd like

I know I always apologize for being late but I never get any better at not being late when making these updates


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